


Unnecessary Roughness

by LovelyNights



Category: SKAM (Norway), SKAM (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, Lacrosse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-17 03:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11267061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyNights/pseuds/LovelyNights
Summary: "If I was on a roof right now, I think I'd try to fly," Even says with a lazy yet content smile."If I was on a roof right now, I'd jump," the other boy says with a careless shrug of his shoulders."So you could fly?" he's still smiling."Don't be stupid Even, people can't fly.





	1. Isak

3:00 PM  
Isak could never figure out if he excelled in the area of self-control or completely lacked it. Days and days of jogging mindlessly for hours on his “day-off” pointed to the former. Work out plans stuck to the fridge, the walls, hidden between the pages of textbooks, and even tacked to the front door of his dorm pointed to the latter. The line between great self-control and terrible self-control is thin, and Isak spent his entire life doing a balancing act. In the moment, however, he credited himself for having amazing self-control and made a promise to cut a mile off his 5-mile run later on as gift to himself. 

His legs felt like they were in flames, blood running down his left one. Turf burn had struck again. All Isak wanted to do was uppercut Chris. Pointedly ignoring the meaty, unevenly tanned arm stretched in his direction as he had the previous five times, Isak dragged himself up from the field. The hand belonged to Chris Schistad, head captain of the Durham lacrosse team and the same guy who’d knocked Isak to the ground the first five times. So no, Isak wasn’t going to grab his fucking hand and pretend to be friends. 

He groaned inwardly as his feet slipped for a few moments and it almost seemed like he was set up to reclaim his spot on the ground, exhaling a sigh of relief when his balance steadied and the world stopped spinning around him. Noticing the captains seemed to have called a quick water break, he quickly made his way over to the scattered group of water bottles located on the sidelines, resisting the urge to go cuss Chris out when he noticed his helmet had come loose on impact. Again. 

Unable to find his water bottle among the group of blue and purple bottles with Durham stickers that looked just like it, he played a silent game of eenie meenie miney mo and opted for drinking from a well placed bottle located a few feet from him. He said a quick prayer in favor of whoevers water bottle he had claimed as his own not being whichever persons locker had tempted the roaches currently taking over the team room.

Well, not prayed, really. Prayer had no place in his mind, much like hypothetical situations. That didn’t stop him from looking towards whatever big man in the sky his mother was always sending him texts about anyway. Quickly repeating the prayer about having borrowed from a sanitary player, he threw the bottle down, noticing the rest of the team was gathering in the center of the field. Buckling his helmet once more and sending one more prayer to the God his mother so faithfully believed in that he would escape the last summer practice without a concussion, Isak made his way over to the rest of his team. 

The sun was beating down on the men, causing pools of sweat dripping off even the laziest and most useless of players. Not that there were many of those on the team anyway. Even still, there wasn’t a single complaint amongst the team as they playfully shoved, whipped, and told stories about their plans for the last weekend before the beginning of the school year. The absence of the coaching staff was extremely noticeable, and it had showed in the behavior of the team throughout the entire practice. After noting the lack of annoyance at the weather and the amount of time practice was taking, much to his annoyance and slight amusement, his father's voice filled Isak’s mind. 

“Winners don't complain and people who complain don’t win. Nothing starts counting until it’s no longer fun,” Isak's father was fond of saying. The voice in his head was always accompanied by the image of a stern face, not yet rich with wrinkles around his eyes. The version of his father Isak knew when he was young also didn’t have the deep lines near his mouth caused from frowning too hard for too long. 

“-Because fun has no place in work. When it’s no longer fun and you keep going is when you’re really on your way to becoming a winner,” Isak whispered quietly to himself in a monotone. The end of his father's saying flowed from his lips as effortlessly as water from a waterfall. He could probably recite it in his sleep. Afterall, Dylan did spend the first three weeks of rooming with Isak complaining about his sleep talking. 

A smile ghosting his lips, he thought about the time he lived by those words. He remembered begging his mom to spell every word of it out for him. Remembers finally convincing her to order the custom made poster with that very saying on it a few weeks later. Remembers thinking the poster was absolutely perfect, the best thing he had ever had the idea of creating. Remembers his father unabashedly rolling his eyes upon seeing the poster hung up in Isak’s room just above his favorite wall ball mount.

Years later, during a rare fit of rage Isak would unceremoniously tear the poster down and it would find a home stuffed in the back of his closet, nowhere near any of his clothes so he’d never have to look at it again without having to deliberately search for it first. A couple of years after that, while on the trip to Durham Isak would search through his bag for his wallet and discover the torn up poster. He’d decide it didn’t make the cut for Durham and it would end up at the bottom of a freshly emptied trash can in the bathroom of a rest stop. Ridding himself of the poster would never allow him to escape the amused and unimpressed look his father wore so well.

Absentmindedly, he scoffed. As if he needed his father, bum of all bums, trash of all trash, to coach him on how to be a success story. 

Isak wondered if his team members had been given a similar talk by a parent. Or maybe a nike commercial, whatever. So what if his dad was only good for spewing poorly timed motivational crap at him and his mother was basically a zombie when on medication? Isak could handle it. 

Just like he could handle the harsh temperature they were playing in. Not like Isak was a stranger to terrible weather conditions. Countless camps, clinics, and practices had been held in uglier weather and if Isak could handle it when he was eleven he sure was more than capable of handling it now. One doesn’t just get onto the Durham lacrosse team without being good. And being good required being touch. To be tough you have to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. Or at least that was the talk the captains had given them in the locker rooms. Isak had felt like it was a bit much, more than a little corny, but Bech Næsheim had been the one to say it and there was just something about the way he spoke that made it hard to take him seriously. Almost like he was always mocking someone, irony and sarcasm heavy in his voice. Either way, appreciate his sarcasm or not, one could not disrespect Even Bech Næsheim. It was unheard of.

Even belonged to a family of lacrosse legends. He looked like a God and he played like a God. Anyone following lacrosse probably knew his biography by heart. Isak, in fact, knew his biography by heart. 

The first few times Isak met Even properly, in early March during tryouts when the team had found out that not only was Even transferring to their school, but he was also going to be their assistant captain, Isak had made the mistake of reciting his biography in his head whenever they were face to face. Even Bech Næsheim, 20. Played for the university of Exeter, shocking transfer to Durham after a year, blah blah blah. The shocking part of the transfer wasn’t so much over Even transferring, but about why he hadn’t started at Durham in the first place. Durham is where lacrosse legends are made. Talk on the internet (not that Isak made a habit of googling Even, of course) was that his grades hadn’t been up to par. Isak could remember his father discussing Evens decision to go to Exeter over breakfast one morning when isak himself was caught up with making university decisions. Isak made a mental note to ask Eskild about the topic later. Eskild knew fucking everything.

An air of mystery seemed to follow Even wherever he went. When he was nice he was too nice, when he was mean he was too mean, when he was in he was uber involved, when not in he didn’t seem to give a fuck. The man jumped from one extreme to the other. Even Isak, who was completely uninterested in getting to know Even as a person, knew this. 

He knew all he needed to know about Even, composed in a mental list much like those he made for every lacrosse player he encountered. 3-time ground ball record holder for his club team in Norway (he broke his own record in 2012), his playing style (fast but aggressive, a style his father admired that Isak couldn’t quite master himself), and a great communicator. There wasn’t much else Is needed to know other than whether or not he was accident prone, and even that could wait until the beginning of the season. 

Later on, when practice was over, Isak joined Magnus, Mahdi, and Jonas in poking fun at the way Chris walked. Actually, at the way Chris was Chris. It was a poorly hidden attempt to lay rest to some of Isak’s emotions about the guy. They discussed how all practice he had seemed to focus on plowing Isak over and tutted and looked unimpressed, but in the end there wasn’t much any of them could do about it and they knew it. There was one person actually on the team who had the power to put an end to Chris’ behavior. Said guy stopped Isak, placing his hand on Isaks stomach as he walked in.

“Hey, uh, you good? Chris isn’t bothering you too much, is he?” asked Even. Isak glanced down at the hand Even had resting against his stomach. Even did too. Wordlessly, they shuffled a few inches away from each other. Isak watched amusedly first as Evens arms came to rest first against his side, fingers tapping anxiously on his thigh, then as he ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly. Finally, he leaned against a locker, arms crossed. 

Isak shrugged. Chris was pissed at him and it was his own fault. It seemed that every time they decided they could do this, they could make things work, shit went wrong. Maybe because they hadn’t been able to establish was “this” was. Isak had been disappointed with himself the first, second, even third time he had found himself in bed with Chris. The disappointment had never faded, but he had stopped counting. Isaks cheeks flushed red as he wondered if Even knew, really knew, what was going on between he and Chris. He was sure there had to be some kind of rule in place about captains dating team members, something about built in power imbalance. Would Even tell someone about them, about their issues?

Isak could remember his embarrassment when Even had walked in on he and Chris. One night, having been out with the team at a bar and left early in hopes of privacy, he and Chris had headed back to Chris’ room, unable to go to Isak’s since his dorm was being renovated over the summer and he was forced to room with Jonas who would most certainly come home with a girl later on. To Isak’s dismay, Even had decided to check on Chris who normally wasn’t one to leave early. To both he and Even's credit though, Chris had been the one to freak out. Isak kept sucking, as mortified as he was, and Even had simply backed out of the room, eyebrows cocked. 

And they had never spoken about it again. Because, what was there to say? 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Are you kidding me? He threw you around like a fucking ragdoll today,” Even spoke, staring at Isak bewilderingly. And so yeah maybe Isak was walking away from today's practice a little more bruised than usual. And yeah the turf burn hurt like a bitch. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle and he couldn’t shake the feeling of annoyance at the fact Even felt the need to babysit him. He opened his mouth to say so, too when-

Loud banging was heard on the locker room door. 

“Shit,” Even mumbled under his breath. Before isak could ask what was wrong, Even spoke again. “Alright everyone get decent, we’ve got a girl coming in,” he yelled. Hoots immediately followed his announcement and isak rolled his eyes, feeling sorry for whoever it was. Even rushed off to join Chris in making sure their directions were being followed, leaving Isak standing exactly where Even had stopped him upon his entrance to the locker room, seemingly having completely forgotten their conversation. 

He opted for rejoining his friend group and taking what was practically his assigned seat on a bench next to Jonas, shoving the boy when he gave him a confused look. Clearly he wanted to know what Even had said to him. Though more than an amazing captain, always willing to pick up drunk members of his team at insane hours of the night, Even wasn’t known for going out of his way to get to know or talk to his team. Isak shrugged lamely. He didn’t know why Even decided to talk to him either. 

A moment later the room quieted down as Noora and Eskild entered the room and took their places next to Even and Chris. Confusedly, Isak quirked an eyebrow at Noora. Normally she told the boy about her plans for the day, especially if it involved the Durham team. It must have slipped her mind today, between all the talk about Jonas and Eva. From the corner of his eye Isak could see, almost sense, Jonas perking up. Involuntarily, he grinned. 

As the nutritionist for the team Nora had her job more than cut out for her. The team also had a more experienced nutritionist, who worked with individual guys who felt like they needed more help with following the diet or had special dietary requirements. A vegetarian and someone with very specific requirements, Isak answered more to Dr. Wilson than he did to Noora. So he didn’t feel too bad when he completely zoned out her talk, instead pondering about his issues with Chris. While he didn’t know exactly how to proceed, Isak was absolutely sure they needed to talk. Having a teammate hate you is hard enough, having your head captain hate you is even harder.

Only when Chris shoved a diet plan in his hand did he realize everyone around him was moving, packing things into duffel bags and organizing their lockers. Somehow, he had missed Nooras entire talk. Whatever, he was probably knew more about diets than everyone else in the room combined anyway. His father had made sure he knew more than just a thing or two.

The room was loud, Noora lingering behind to wait for he and Jonas and enduring loud, immature, hoots from the men around her. While changing clothes, a group of the boys, seemingly Yousef, Mikael, and Adam, began urging her to strip too. Not all of them knowing why, many of the others guys began to chant “strip!” also. Isak was prepared to go over and break it up before he noticed the large smile on her face and her playfully rolling eyes. Surveying the room, he noted amidst the commotion, Even and Eskild talking quietly. Eskild was assigned to monitor the more mental health aspects of the team, making sure that who had medication was taking them, who needed to see therapists were seeing them, etc. Though the team was probably the most accepting and open one he had ever been on, people still made sure not to be seen talking to Eskild by the rest of the team. But Isak knew there were many people who did talk to Eskild, or else he wouldn’t be there. 

 

Apparently feeling eyes on him, Even looked away from Eskild, immediately making eye contact with Isak. Though Isak immediately turned away and begun mindlessly stuffing his belongings into his duffel bag and tuned back into the conversation between Mahdi and Jonas, as Magnus was off bothering Noora and trying to persuade her to include more pork on the dietary plan, it was impossible to miss the frown that consumed Evens face.


	2. Even

Even doesn’t have to ask Chris what the problem is this time. Immediately after entering the room they share a few minutes ago, Chris had thrown his stuff down and started pacing back and forth while ranting. After many rants just like this, Even was starting to realize it wasn’t actually necessary for him to give Chris advice because the man wouldn’t take it anyway. Admittedly, the realization did take a good amount of pressure off him. He mulled over what to say as he watched Chris move around the room.

Despite the generally better quality of athlete housing at Durham, their room still wasn’t considered large by any means. So really Chris was pacing the distance of about ten feet. from his wardrobe to the edge of Evens bed, which partially blocked the front door. It’s a struggle. having to completely scoot his bed over in the mornings before either of them can leave. But Even doesn’t mind much. After a week of putting up with it though, it would probably start getting on his nerves. He made a mental note to ask the captain of the footie team how to secure housing for the team over in one of the coveted buildings on Maddox hill.

“He’s just so fucking irritating! I tell him I want us to date, he refuses. Says how can I expect him to settle down ‘like some old man’. Okay, so I want to keep him happy. We stop talking, I freeze him out. Now all of a sudden he thinks we need to talk, and he decides we need to work things out. He made it very obvious the last time we spoke that there is nothing to work out at all. So why the hell does he keep insisting we talk? He tugs me back and forth, side to side, constantly. Everything needs to be on his terms all the time! It’s just not fair to me,” The longer Chris speaks, the louder and more aggressive his voice gets. Even is thoroughly over the whole thing.

Even is well aware of the fact that Chris has taken to altering facts before he complains to Even. The whole bit about freezing Isak out is a complete lie, and they both know it. But as long as Even doesn’t point out his fibs, Chris doesn’t acknowledge them. They’ve managed to come up with a good system over the past month so, unwilling to rock the boat, Even keeps his mouth shut.

He’s known Chris for a few years. There’s a vague memory of them meeting at some lacrosse camp when Chris was sixteen and Even had been fourteen. They’d go on to meet again many times after that. When Chris moved to Oslo and began playing for the rival of the Lions, the club team Even had been playing for since he was ten, they were forced to become familiar with each other as competitors.Though he vaguely followed Chris’ career as they grew older, Even had still been surprised when he met with Coach Langford and Chris had been introduced to him as head captain of the Durham lacrosse team.

To Evens possibly unwarranted surprise, Chris was no longer the same gangly boy and awkward player Even had met at camp years ago. Standing in front of him had been a large man who Mr. L had presented as the defensive powerhouse of the Durham team. According to Langford, Chris had carried Durham's defense for the past two years he had played with them. Apparently having noticed the quirk of Evens brows, Chris had stepped in and explained how in his freshman year he had decided not to play lacrosse.

The whole captain thing had still been more than a little suspicious to Even. The transformation from someone who shouldn’t have made the team at all to captain of said team, which also happened to be the best college lacrosse team in Europe was more than a little questionable. After a quick search across several lacrosse forums the night he got back home, Even had found he wasn’t the only one skeptical of Chris’ abilities. Coaches, fans, and other players alike all expressed confusion at Chris’ appointment as Durham captain. A month later, remembering the negative comments he had not only read but agreed with, Even had refrained from searching his own name in the aforementioned forums when his transfer from Exeter to Durham had been announced.

Even had come to know Chris to be a slightly better than mediocre defense player and a slightly less than mediocre captain. His only redeeming quality was a unique lack of conscience that made him a monster on the field. Off the field, he was nice for the most part, aside from when his weird relationship with one of the freshmen on the team, Isak Valtersen, had him on edge. Which, in the days leading up to the beginning of the school year, it had. With first semester having started Even had meant to put an end to his roomies constant complaining about the kid. He had neglected to do so, either from sympathy or just not caring enough. Hence the rant he was listening to at the moment, on the first Tuesday back to classes when he had thirty minutes to do two hours worth of homework before the team was due to meet in the gym.

Even would be lying if he said he cared at all about the topic. Really, he was lying if he said he was on Chris’ side with the whole issue.

“End it all if you don’t think it’s working out,” Even says with a sigh, not bothering to close the laptop open in front of him, “like you said, it isn’t fair to yourself if you keep putting up with him manipulating you.”

“Dude I know man, I know. It’s just, you don’t see him the way I do, okay? He’s perfect. Perfect and he knows it,” Chris mutters. Even tries and fails to resist rolling his eyes. Suddenly, not unlike a deflated balloon, Chris let out a sigh, sinking onto Evens bed.

Even presses his lips together tightly, attempting to hold in an exasperated sigh. What emerges from his mouth ends up sounding just like a balloon deflating and the irony hits him hard. In an attempt to disguise the noise, Even lets out an overly loud cough that has Chris looking at him curiously. Smiling in what he hopes to be a convincing way, Even finally shuts his laptop after glancing at the time.He notes that they have about fifteen minutes before they have to start getting ready if they don’t want to be late for the team's session in the weight room. Attempting to convince himself he can just do his work later, he tunes back into Chris’ latest Isak rant.

Isak Valtersen is, from what Even can tell, perfect. So that’s one thing Chris has correct. Even is no stranger to googling Isak’s name, so he knows the kid has fans. Lots of them. And though it’s a secret, Even considers himself one of them.

While his playing style isn’t extremely unique, instead typical of an attack player who occasionally plays mid, Isak executed his style like no other seemed to be able to. Versatility made him a standout player. Though his speciality was scoring, his willingness and ability to play defense took his play to the next level. He’s an incredible player, the kind colleges fight over. In fact, much of Evens year as a freshmen had been spent stalking Isaks instagram account, where he documented his college visits. He also closely monitored lacrosse forums, and followed a bunch of lacrosse gossip accounts.

Even, like many others, tracked Isaks decision making process religiously. He sighed with other fans when it seemed Isak was leaning towards the University of Maryland in America, screamed when word got out that he had stopped the negotiation process with them, and searched eagerly for information on him. The difference between Even and other fans of Isak, not that Even would ever openly call himself a fan of course, was his advantage as an insider. After poking around, he found out one of his teammates on the Exeter team knew someone, who knew someone, who knew Isak’s best friend, Jonas Vasquez, a great player in his own right. Even begged them to figure out why Isak had decided against UMD. Two days later, after a long game of telephone, Even discovered Isak had simply decided against traveling so far from home. By the time Isak had committed to Durham, Even himself had already announced his own plans to transfer to the same university.

“Chris I think…” Even starts. He’s interrupted by rapid pings sounding from both of their phones. While Chris ignores his, Even quickly grabs his own, welcoming any distraction from the topic at hand.

Immediately after unlocking his phone, Even rolls his eyes. The texts are from the team group chat, something Even is questioning the need for. Before now it’s only been used to ask who accidentally took whose jersey along with the occasional drunken text from someone wanting to know about the best bars around or needing someone to give them a ride from a gathering.

 

Yousef (11:40): Wat time does gym sesh start again?

Mikael (11:41): ya lol I was wondering about that myself

William (11:43): you guys are so stupid

You’re the dumbest wankers i’ve ever met

Isak (11:43): all of u shut the fuck up im in class

 

First snorting at Isak’s text, Even responded.

Even (11:44): Starts at 12, idiots

William (11:45): oi! Captain! I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that :(

 

No one says anything when Even and Chris show up to the gym ten minutes past 12. A quick headcount reveals they’re the last ones to arrive. Allowing himself to grimace for a moment, he prays it never comes up to the coaching staff.

Neither he or Chris offer an explanation for their tardiness. Chances are the guys don’t want one. Everyone is completely in their zone, headphones in as they work on their respective exercises. It’s the complete opposite of what gym sessions were like at Exeter but Chris doesn’t seem to give it a second thought so Even doesn’t either. A quick look at the whiteboard in front of the room shows Even should be on the treadmill and another scan shows his circuit for the week is the same as Mikael, Isak, and Jonas’. This is no doubt the result of Langford’s elaborate training system that involves training players for positions they don’t normally play. This week it seems he’s decided to trade Even like a middie.

While walking over to the section housing the treadmills Even is immediately delighted to find it seems to be the liveliest part of the room. As he gets closer he realizes the three men are singing/rapping along to a song. When he starts the machine after stretching for a little, Even feels three pairs of eyes on him.

“Is there a problem?”

Instantly Jonas and Isak shake their heads and begin focusing on the task at hand. Mikael on the other hand, doesn’t back down. Even was naive to think he would in the first place. Mikael has been his best friend since birth. Mikael was his first competitor, ever. Some of his first memories are of them racing in each others backyards, going to baby gym with Mikael and their mothers, and summers full of swimming in a lane next to him. Mikael was the one who convinced him not to quit lax when...everything happened. He was his first and now best, friend.

 

;“Starts at twelve, idiots,” Mikael says in a mocking tone. The way his lips curve up at the end and the nonchalance with which he brushes his hair out of his face tells Even he isn’t actually angry. Even begins to laugh.

“You know Even, the amount of attitude you had when telling us what time it started implied you’d...I don’t know, not be the last one here?”

Before Even has had time to process Isak’s playful insult, his best friend has come to his rescue.

“Oh shut up Mr. ‘I’m in class’. You don’t even like chem,” Mikael says with little actual fire behind his words.

“At least I go to class,” Isak shoots back with ease at the exact moment Jonas stretches his arm across and slaps Mikael. As the three bicker, Even finds himself taken aback by the ease with which they are interacting. He quickly decides that later on he and Mikael need to have an extremely long talk.

As the men moved through exercises together Even can’t help but think about how he could get more than used to this combination of people. Mikael is Mikael, Jonas is made up of over the top gestures and hipster comments that make him hilarious to be around, and Isak, perhaps the most intriguing of them all, seems to be all humor with selective silence mixed in at times. Listening as Isak talks about some kid in his marine biology course who has asked him out twice already, watching him attempt to dance without pausing during lunges, and observing the way he doesn’t even seem put off by Mikael’s unexpected topic changes only makes it more difficult for Even to believe Isak is the same guy Chris complains about all the time.

After briefing the team on the general schedule, which daily hour and a half long gym sessions accompanied by two hour practices and a team run, Even trails Jonas and Isak out the building with Mikael by his side.

“Dude he’s just so fucking weird. Like, okay, I know I’m super picky about the people I chill with but I absolutely swear this guy is just weird as shit. And he’s rude too. When Dylan was moving his shit out Thomas had come early. Which obviously I don’t care about, he can do what he wants,” Isak pauses to sigh at this point, “but then he started making all these snarky comments about the stuff Dylan was taking out of his room. And last night I was listening to music with my earbuds in when he just barged into our room and started flipping out about how he had accidentally taken my diet plan to class and how my work out plans are ‘everywhere’ and he,” Isaks volume has gone down significantly since the first part. Not being able to shake the feeling he’s intruding, Even slows his pace. Mikael automatically does the same.

Saying a quick goodbye to Mikael, Even took off, his strides long, leaving his confused best friend behind him.

A few hours later, gone is the enjoyment of each other's company everyone had felt in the workout room. The energy on the field is clearly lacking. The offensive line ispissed, something about defense being too rough against their own team members during scrimmages. All Even knows is he has to fix it. Calling a water break after the fourth argument between Yousef and William, Even is honestly in fear of the team walking off the field. He just needs time to think. Which he doesn’t get. Hearing yells, his eyes shoot up and immediately settle on two people clad in their purple practice uniforms being tugged away from each other by their teammates. After spending a moment wondering whether or not to join the team, Even opts out. Taking off his helmet, he feels unable to support himself. He sinks onto the ground.

Hearing the turf crunching with the sounds of someone approaching, Even makes no move to sit up. Every ounce of energy has been drained out of him and they’ve still got an hour left of practice.The ground ball drills, the easiest drill to exist, had proved to be too hard for his mess of a team. A shadow settles over him. Taking in Mikael’s scent of sandalwood and irish spring, Even allows himself to relax.

“What the fuck are you doing right now Even?”

The anger in Mikael’s voice startling him into action, Even sits up immediately. While his best friend isn’t the nicest person in the world, it's still the first time in a long time Even can remember him speaking to him in this tone. The first time was when Sonja called him insane and said he needed to be in a mental hospital somewhere. So yeah, it isn’t easy to get Mikael this angry. Yet Even has managed to do it.

“You’re letting defense,” Mikael pauses to correct himself mid-sentence, gulping down air before continuing, “you’re letting all of us do whatever we want. Defense is running us over constantly and all of us are fighting. Yet you’re sitting on your ass in the middle of the fucking field. Get your shit together, captain,” he spits out the last word before stalking off. The shadow gone, Even is left staring wildly up at the sun.

 

As much as Even tries to pull it together, practice only goes downhill from there. The offensive players are pissed and five minutes after the water break ends, Even is forced to separate Isak and William. Blood boiling, he pulls Isak away from the latter, distractedly noting others doing the same to William. While sitting silently near Isak, who has his head resting in his lap, Evens nose is hit by the scent of something metallic. The air around them smells like blood. Without thinking about it, Even aggressively grabbed Isaks arm. Upon discovering a deep gash where it seems William hit him with his stick, Even forces himself to walk away before he kills one of his own defense players.

The week gets uglier from there. Classes are impossibly hard, the entire team is constantly in a bad mood, and countless meetings with the team psychologist does little more than stress him out. It all peaks Friday night, when, the whole team having been banned by the coaching staff from going out due to a less than mediocre performance the first few days of actual practice, he finds himself lying in his room with Chris in the bed over, giving a poorly constructed rant on the “offensive players” that really just serves as a poorly concealed job of talking shit about Isak. Even hasn’t even been pretending to listen, so he doesn’t feel rude at all when his phone pings and he immediately glances down at it.

 

Sonja (23:08): Omw now. So excited to see you Evy

Oh yeah. That.

 

 

So the next morning Even finds himself seated in a cafe slightly off campus. It's a nice day outside, the sun shining for the first time that week. The cafe is bustling, loaded with students and business people alike. It's Evens first time here, but he knows it’s the most popular breakfast place for miles. He's shown up in the middle of their breakfast rush, but he can't bring himself to care.

He was settled at a booth in the very back of the cafe. The second he walked in he had known it was perfect. Just enough sunlight shone down on the table and there was a spider plant dangling just above it. A gut feeling told Even Sonja would love it.

And she does. The second Even spots Sonja and waves her over to the booth, a smile completely engulfs her face. He doesn’t wait for an invitation, throwing his arms around her as soon as she’s within three feet of him. She smells the same way she always has, like strawberries and bubblegum. Even is sure if he shuts his eyes really tight and focuses hard enough, he can imagine they’re somewhere else.

He’s just managing to remember what standing on top of mountains with her after a tough hike used to feel like, just starting to remember how good it felt to think as long as he had her by his side he could conquer the world, when she pulls away. Shaking his head absentmindedly, he takes his seat across from her, sliding her a menu as he does. He doesn’t know why he bothers. They both know she’ll end up going with the same spinach and cheese omelette accompanied by a bagel with cream cheese and some dark coffee she’ll take about two sips of the whole time they’re there. Maybe, if she’s feeling ultra adventurous, she’ll order water in place of the coffee.

Unbelievable, he’s been sitting across from her for two seconds and he’s already more bitter than how he takes his coffee.

 When Even looks up from his menu a moment later, his eyes immediately meet Sonjas. She’s scanning his face repeatedly, wearing the same stupid look of worry Even sees on her face in his dreams. The look continues to occupy her face while they talk to the waitress, when their food is brought to them, and halfway through their mostly silent meal. Even had been content with only speaking to each other when they needed the other person to pass the ketchup, the salt, or the pepper. It reminded him of the meals they suffered through together in the months leading up to their most recent break up around four months ago. Sonja, on the other hand, apparently doesn't want the same thing he does. So history repeats itself.

“So,” as she speaks she dabs lightly at the corner of her mouth with the napkin she has folded into a triangle, “how’re you liking it here? Missing Exeter y-”

 

Even is glad she stops talking when she does. Sonja, more than anybody else, knows Exeter was hell for him. He had been set on going to Durham from the very beginning. Since he was eight years old and Durham had begun cementing itself as the team that attracted and produced lacrosse legends, Even had been dead set on attending. Sonja had known this. It was the talk of their joint daydreams starting with their relationship at age 14. They’d both go to Durham, Sonja on an academic scholarship-Even on an athletic one. Not that either of them needed scholarships of course, having come from well-off families. But scholarships had seemed necessary to make the daydream even dreamy-er, so they had kept that part in. Sonja had applied early acceptance to the college and Even had immediately begun negotiations with them.

That all came to a halt when Sonja's rejection letter had showed up. Even had easily allowed himself to be convinced by Sonja and everyone who knew them that there was no way he’d survive college without her. Because who else would nag him to take his meds and treat him like a child? When her acceptance letter to Exeter had arrived, Even had sealed the deal with the school despite their mediocre ass lacrosse program. Halfway through the winter semester, Even had realized their already unstable relationship wasn’t worth stalling his lacrosse career.

He had broken up with her for the last time as soon as his position on the Durham team was confirmed months later.

“No Sonja, I am not ready to run back to Exeter yet,” he spat, “believe it or not, my ideal life doesn’t include playing for a shitty lacrosse team and being bab-”

Sonja cut him off instantly, “Oh, come on Even save the dramatics for later. Exeter lax is good, don’t discredit their accomplishments just because they weren’t the right fit for you.”

 He can’t help it, he snorts. Full on snorts. Because maybe he had given her the wrong idea, but the main issue with Exeter was-still is, her presence there. He holds his tongue, loading his mouth with a too big spoonful of eggs and bacon. She’s here for the weekend, her last weekend until semester one starts at Exeter, and he absolutely refuses to spend the entire time arguing with her. So he allows quiet to fall on their table, the sounds of those in their surroundings engulfing them.

This is a game all too familiar to them. The silent game. Once upon a time, Even had mentally kept track of their scores. In the beginning, she was always managing to edge him out. Sonja could go for days on end without acknowledging his existence. But towards the end, when he really didn't have it in him to care, he had begun racking up the wins.

First was the weekend she accused him of seeing Maisy, her "bff" behind her back. That was quickly followed by the time she got angry at him for spending the night at the local motel without giving her a warning. Even didn't have the official score between them, he had stopped counting when they both crossed 40 wins.

Even wants to thank her for being annoying right off the bat because, for a moment earlier, when he had caught a whiff of her hair, he had really been regretting the decision he had made so many months ago. Even after all these months, Sonja still feels like home.

As he eats Even falls deep in thought about how to fix the issues within the team. As the assistant captain he had taken a more hands off approach to fixing the problems but it was quickly becoming more obvious that Chris wasn’t the least bit concerned about it, so Even figured he’d probably have to step in. The first game is next Saturday and, though it’s just a friendly scrimmage, there’s still a decent amount of pressure riding on the team.

Only when Sonja roughly nudges his foot ten minutes later does Even look at her.

“Isn’t that uh...isn’t that that one player you were always talking about? Isak something,” Sonja asks tentatively. She too is trying to keep the peace. Even glanced over to find that Isak was, indeed, seated in a booth across the room from them, Chris seated across from him. As Sonja and Even watch, Isaks face screws up at something Chris has said. His plate is completely empty. A good thing when, moments later, a rough shove from Chris sends everything on their table crashing to the ground. The waiting staff hurries over. and Even watches as Isak mumbles apologies to the first waiter to reach the table.

 

Apparently both feeling that they’re intruding, Even and Sonja turn back to their meals at the same time. Even ignores the questioning look she keeps giving him and, a few minutes later when Isaks voice becomes loud enough to carry across the room, he feels little more than relief at he and Sonja not having the most fucked up relationship in the room.

 


	3. Even (Yes, again)

It’s freezing cold outside but sweat still trickles in a steady stream down his face. His stick feels heavy in his hand, his scalp is disgustingly itchy from being under the helmet for so long, and he’s in a completely shit mood. Even can’t stop thinking of his room, namely his bed, and the possibility of just taking a nap after this game. He’s ready to give in. It’s obvious Durham is not meant to continue the undefeated streak they somehow managed to hold through eleven pre-season scrimmages against rival teams, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. The only thing that matters to him is that in roughly three weeks they completely shut down Exeter in their game against them.

Last season he had managed to carry Exeter’s team to the second round of playoffs. It had been their first time in the playoffs in roughly fifteen years.

Even can still vividly recall just how hard his heart was pounding, the exhilarating feeling of the win, exactly how grainy the turf felt upon his collapse at the end of the game. They lost to Greensborough in the third round only a couple of days later, but it had done little to dampen the thrill of their win. To him, their place in playoffs had meant absolutely everything. Just on heels of a manic episode, he’d managed to focus enough to pull off the biggest accomplishment of his career to date.  He’d put up a career high of 7 goals, a huge accomplishment for the defensive player. Winning the game had showed him just how much he was truly capable of.

At certain moments Even can still _just_ manage to taste the win. Sometimes he can even feel it. It feels like being on fire, like an itch he can’t manage to scratch. It felt like fate and fulfilling a destiny you didn’t know you had

He channels the moment now, staring down the field from the defensive zone as he and the other nineteen players on the field wait impatiently for the injured athlete to make his way off.

An intense argument with Sonja an hour before the game has him completely out of the “zone”. Not an ideal situation considering the fact that it’s the first game of the season and they’re down by one with five minutes left on the clock. The whole game has been...off. Defense can’t seem to get their shit together, offense is continuously being shut down by the other team’s defense, and the middies are incredibly exhausted from Langford's refusal to use his second string players.

It’s a mess. All of it. His team, his mind, this game. So he takes the opportunity of the forced timeout due to injury to attempt to get his shit together.

He has no idea what happened or who checked him, but number 3 from the opposing team had gone down clutching his calf a few minutes ago. Even feels a limited amount of sympathy. In fact, he doesn’t care at all. He’s seen more than his fair share of career ending injuries and this isn’t one. The only thing on his mind is how he's going to manage to get the ball upfield when Justin, their goalie, inevitably passes the ball to him when play resumes. Because despite him playing his shittiest game yet, his team relies on him heavily. And he isn’t in the business of letting people down.

The next time Even manages to pull himself out of his thoughts, the player is off the field and his sub is running on. Movement on the other half of the field catches Even’s eye. Jonas, who has  been tightly covered by the other team's defense for the entire game is subbed out. While squinting Even just manages to make out the number 10 on the back of the new player's jersey. Valtersen is in for the first time the entire game with just about five minutes left on the clock. Even observes him from the corner of his eye and hardly resists fist bumping the air when Isak barely enters the field and freezes by the sideline, effectively avoiding the man assigned to play defense on him. It’s a sneaky move, but not an illegal one and currently they need to focus on pulling out all the stops possible.

The goalies whistle signals the game being resumed a moment later, and Even is forced to shove the Sonja situation out of his mind when the ball quickly finds its way into his stick only moments into the play.

He isn’t sure exactly how it happens, but somehow what feels like only seconds later, Isak has managed to score. Even normally tries not to admire the kid too much, especially since they’ve recently started getting close to each other, but it’s pretty difficult when he does shit like effortlessly deliver the team the potential to win.

He’s so transfixed by how effortless Isak managed to make scoring look when, for the past ten minutes, offense has been failing to generate any type of positive movement on their end that he almost forgets he provided the assist. Only when he feels gear bumping roughly against his gear and Isak is in front of him offering him a high-five, does he snap out of his daze.

He glances at the clock as everyone settles at their respective restraining lines. He takes a quick glance at Isak, who seems to be moving to do the face-off. Yelling from Langford over on the sideline has Mahdi doing face-off instead and Isak taking his place behind the offensive restraining line.

Mahdi doesn’t capture the ball the way everyone seems to expect him to. Even thinks if he was Isak he would feel smug right now, with the ball traveling the opposite way the team needs it to be all because Langford decided to be petty.

Desperation and fear practically radiate off all the players clad in Durham colors. Justin has been off the entire game, recovering from a rough hit he took in practice only a few days earlier. So the entire team is well aware that if the ball manages to get in front of the goal, it is 100% going in.

Noticing no one else on defense seems to be willing to, Even makes his way up to the player with the ball. He manages to overestimate the speed of the other player and fails to break his steps down enough, shooting past him. Immediately he pivots around in an attempt to catch back up to the player.

“Slide! Slide! Fucking slide!”

It takes too long for him to register the words are coming from his own mouth. There’s no way hes going to be able to cover his person. His pleas seem to fall on deaf ears as his teammates neglect to assist him. The whole play is a trainwreck. He can practically see the vein that pops out on Langfords forehead when he’s pissed. Even fights hard to slow down the process, to at least buy time for the other members of the defensive line to position themselves well.

Suddenly a blur of purple, blond hair, and milky white skin fly past him. A well placed check has the same blur flying past him again a few moments later. Even finds himself so enraptured by the ease with which Isak plays the game that he breaks his own number one rule and freezes just to watch.

Isak dances around the players in a way that should probably seem skittish. Instead he is calm, graceful, completely sure of himself. Even can basically feel the shame and embarrassment radiating off Langford, despite the fact he is all the way over by the sidelines. Isak does the textbook definition of a great play. He wears down both defense and the clock, then, just in time for him to not be considered a ball hog while also not leaving the opposing team with enough time on the clock to possibly make a comeback, he sends the ball sailing past the goalies head and into the upper right corner of the net.

Even tries not to gloat when the player he’s assigned to lets out a long and pathetic sounding sigh.

They win 12-14, starting the season off on a somewhat good note. But that isn’t what Even or anyone else is thinking about, and Langford knows it. So he keeps the post-game huddle short and sets them loose with an exasperated sigh, not being able to hide his smile when they take off towards the bleachers, where most of them have family members waiting.

In the beginning of the game Even had zeroed in on where his family is seated. He resists the urge to sprint over to them now, feeling an odd sense of dread the closer he gets to them. There’s a ball of anxiety in his stomach but he can’t figure out why. Then he remembers. He’s terrified Sonja has told his parents about their issues together. He wouldn’t put it past her. Maybe she’d leave out the details, but he could always trust her to give his parents a full report on what he’s up to.

It’s his fault everything is shit between them, he knows. After she came to visit him around a month and a half ago, she had somehow gotten it in her head that they could be together again. The texts kept coming, about long distance relationships and how she had plenty of friends who made them work. But Even wasn’t interested. He thought he made it clear.

Sure, they had had sex around twice during her trip, but he thought he had made it obvious he wasn’t in anyway interested in a relationship. Clearly he hadn’t been obvious enough considering when she found out he occasionally responded to dms random girls sent him she completely flipped out.

When he gets to the bleachers he’s met by loud cheers, both from his family members and a few students who go to the school and stick around after games in hopes of meeting the athletes. He gives the latter group a quick wave before accepting hugs from his family.

“Son, you played incredibly. I’m so glad you decided to make this move,” his father beams at him. Somehow, just this small gesture makes Even feel all of it has been worth it. The negative vibes he had gotten from some of his teammates who had felt that he didn’t deserve his position as captain, the comments picking apart every career move he had made until then in the forums, all of it. When his mother pulls him in close a moment later and he is wrapped in the scent of vanilla and mint, the scent of home, the security he feels makes him wonder if there had ever been a time life had felt rocky.

Finally, he turns to his little brother. Jaxon is staring up at him with a rather unimpressed look on his face but it does nothing to stop Even from gathering him in his arms and squeezing him tightly as if he is six and not thirteen. His little brother has always been his right hand man. Jax likes to act like he’s too cool for him now, but they’ve got the strongest bond in the world. Even would never forget his first depressive episode after being diagnosed. His parents had been annoying the hell out of him, trying to force him to talk and to...exist. Jaxon, eleven at the time, had simply sat next to him quietly, occasionally talking about who he did and didn’t like at the time. Even vows to check up on him more often. His heart aches for the safety of home, but he knows Durham is the right place for him. He just has to get his heart to understand that.

In the time it takes him to set Jax back down on the bleachers and greet the two friends Jaxon chose to bring to the game with him, his parents have become engaged in conversation with the couple seated next to them.

The woman his mother is talking to looks to be nothing short of a model. She’s tall and blonde with incredibly long legs. From where the blanket is slanted over her shoulder Even can make out a jersey with the number ten on it placed over an incredibly elegant looking dress. Even thinks there’s something off about her eyes though. They can’t seem to settle on one spot for very long and her body is swaying back and forth gently. Offhandedly, he wonders if she’s having an episode then scolds himself. He’s been doing this thing where he projects his issues on other people for awhile now, and it seems to be a bad habit he can’t shake.

Beside her is a man that easily towers over everyone except Even and his dad and his broad build makes the lady next to him look tiny in comparison. He is dressed in a suit and tie as if he had decided on a whim to drive over to catch the game. He is sporting no Durham merch, but under an extra blanket the couple has brought with them peeks a tiny flag with the Durham logo and the number ten stuck on it. The man's face is a glowering red despite the cold temperature and Even quickly decides he looks like the kind of person who gets year round sun burn.

Just the way the couple is dressed makes Even feel obligated to straighten his back and carry himself slightly differently. The man keeps glancing at him despite the fact that he is engaged in conversation with his parents, and Even has just made up his mind to introduce himself when the woman lets out a squeal.

“Issy! Darling you played so well,” Isak, who has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, dodges the woman's hug. A moment later he appears to notice just how many people are looking at him and he presses a quick kiss to her cheek. The man doesn’t pause the conversation he is having to greet him, and Isak doesn’t seem to have expected him to.

He sends a quick nod Evens way and Even, realizing he’s been staring at him since he first climbed up the bleachers, sends a quick nod back. Then he continues staring. Noticing, Isak smiles. Even smiles back. The staring continues. Isak is just in the middle of shooting him a well deserved weird look when the man suddenly pulls him in close and whispers something in his ear. Despite the fact that he is rolling his eyes, Isak nods. A second later his beckons for Even to come closer.

“Dad, this is Even. Even this is my father, Tarje. He’s a huge fan.”

Even has to resist the urge to blurt out and ask why his father is impressed by him when fucking Isak Valtersen of all people, is his own son. Sure he comes from a family of legends, but in his family Isak _is_ the legend. Somehow Isak’s dad doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would appreciate a comment like that, so instead Even holds his tongue and finds himself on the receiving end of an overly firm handshake.

Quickly introductions are made. Their fathers talk over the specifics of the game while their mothers go on and on about their health. They can’t escape questions about their eating habits, party habits, exercise regimens, and even safe sex. Even only puts an end to it when his mother begins a poor attempt to discreetly ask him whether or not he’s had another episode without telling her about it.

She’s still somehow convinced he isn’t managing being bipolar well. Even thinks she just isn’t managing him being bipolar well and is projecting her worries on him, of course he’d never say it to her face. For as long as he can remember his parents have supported his every decision. The whole thing with Sonja had simply been a blip in their relationship. It’s too late to bring it up now, he should’ve spoken up sooner, but it really did sting when his parents had been adamant without Sonja he would barely survive. They’d treated him like a child and Sonja like the babysitter wise beyond her years, and it made him feel like such a fucking burden.

His mother had sent him angry texts for three days straight when he announced his plans to transfer and, subsequently, leave Sonja behind. Interactions in the family group chat had been so uncomfortable that eventually Jaxon had simply left the conversation. His mother had even driven down to Exeter extremely determined to “talk some sense” into her son.

To this day Even knows she remains convinced he had called things off with Sonja during some type of episode she had failed to detect and it frustrated Even to no avail. His father hadn’t been much better, insisting on sending him a text every day at eight to remind him to take his meds the second he found out about the end of their relationship. But they were trying and Even knew it wasn’t easy so he’d made it his goal to forgive them. He wasn’t completely there yet, it didn’t help that he knew they kept in touch with Sonja and she sent them things as arbitrary as his social media updates, but he’d get there with time.

“Would you all like to join us for a dinner at our hotel tonight? We found out earlier that we’re staying in the same place and it’d be great for all of us to get to know each other. I’m sure Even and Isak would love to eat a real meal that doesn’t involve ramen or any of that other nonsense he posts about on instagram,” Tarje asks the group. Even avoids looking at Isaks eyes, which he senses are searching to meet his. He simply nods along with the rest of the group and then it seems to be decided.

“Great. Isak and Even can go on back to their building to get cleaned up and we’ll all head over to the hotel. I’ll be in contact with Isak but dinner will be around 8:30 if that’s fine with you all,” he doesn’t give anyone the chance to say whether it's okay with them or not and instead continues plowing ahead, ”Even and Isak can get a room together for the night at the hotel. I’m sure we all have a lot to catch up on.”

It amazes Even how Tarje so smoothly makes decisions for everybody else, and he catches Isak sighing quietly. However, his parents seem to have no problem with the itinerary Tarje has oh-so-kindly decided on for everyone, so he lets it go. He and Isak say quick goodbyes and take off on the twenty minute walk from the stadium to their building.

Quiet settles over them. No, finds a place wedged between them. A knot of anxiety grows in Evens stomach, turns into an odd lump in his throat. Isak remains oblivious, fiddling with his duffel in an attempt to pull his phone from the front pocket. His steps are light but quick, and despite the fact that Even definitely has longer legs out of the both of them, he struggles to match his pace without first doing an awkward jogging movement.

He tries desperately to swallow around it. Tries to count to ten. He doesn’t manage to shake the feeling he’s running out of time. _They’re_ running out of time. He racks his mind, trying to remember exactly what Jonas had told him a month ago when Even had finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on his thoughts since their group had begun to grow closer.

 

“ _Isak? Hate you? No way, bro,” the curly headed man had scoffed between sips of beer, “Isak is just…like that. He’s a grumpy, sarcastic, shithead. Been like that since we were kids.”_

 

Even hadn’t felt reassured. The problem had never been Isak being “a grumpy, sarcastic, shithead”. Isak was the opposite of all those things around him. He was too polite, too cold. It had been okay at first, back when Isak was just another teammate Even would probably never become very close to. But things had changed. Rapidly. Suddenly they had gone from awkwardly waving at each other from across rooms and tight-lipped grins to evening jogs together, dinner in one of their dorms, and a six person group chat. Even thought they just...clicked together. Isaks one liners, dry comments, and reliable grumpiness added spice Even hadn’t known he lacked to his life. They couldn’t seem to figure out how to transfer the spark to their alone time.

Whenever Mikael and Jonas weren’t around, Isak and Evens friendship ceased to exist. The jokes were gone, the feeling of comfort would vanish. And it bothered Even to no end. It was like getting a sample of what his life could be like only to have it yanked away from him. Maybe Jonas had noticed just how stressed Even was over it, because his face softened and he sat his bottle on the ground.

 

_“Seriously Even. It just takes time for him to warm up to people. He isn’t really a touchy feely person, you understand? If Iss didn’t like you you would know. And lately he just hasn’t been himself, right Mags?”_

_“Yeah dude chill out. Isak’s just been having a month long bitch fit ‘cus of the whole thing with Chris. He’ll come around,” Even hadn’t realized Magnus, who was high out of his mind, had been listening. His cheeks had immediately flushed bright red. His desire to impress Isak wasn’t something he needed getting around the team and it definitely wasn’t something he needed Isak to find out about. The less people who heard, the better._

_“Dude shut the fuck up. Stop calling it a ‘bitch fit’. Eskild told us it invalidates what he’s been through, remember? Their relationship was actually super fucked and we-” Mahdi had chimed in. Even couldn’t help but let out a groan, of course practically their whole squad knew his business._

_“Yeah Mags, shut up you insensitive idiot,” Jonas had said. Except no one was really able to understand him because his tongue was sticking out the side of his mouth while he concentrated on rolling the blunt._

_“Okay Even, listen. Isak’s a good dude. Next time you’re with him just...talk about something other than lax,” Jonas had said._

_“His favorite cereal is corn flakes, he likes playing fifa…” Magnus had begun rattling off basically useless facts about Isak. It was only a few moments before he and Mahdi had begun arguing about some arbitrary topic, like whether Isak still liked wheat bread or if he had sworn off it completely, both determined to only give Even completely accurate facts on their best friend. In his excitement when Jonas had announced that yes, Magnus was correct and Isak just refused to eat bread in general, Magnus had jumped up and knocked his bottle over, thankfully meaning the topic was dropped._

 

Even takes a deep breath and calls on the memory for confidence. He isn’t used to being so nervous about talking to people. Everyone knows it. In school, he craved the class presentations his classmates dreaded. It’s easy not to care when you experience something like hundreds of people you don’t know seeing you lying naked in the middle of a street. Even had little pride, thus no reason to feel unsure of himself or worry what other people think. Isak is hands down the most intimidating person he has ever encountered, and it all lies in the fact that he doesn’t even mean to be intimidating. He’s just so...nonchalant about everything.

He knows it’s not going to get any easier for them. So he speaks.

“So cor-”

‘You play-”

Even grins at him. Somehow, after around ten minutes of silence between them, they had both somehow picked the exact same moment to speak. He motions for Isak to go on, ignoring his protests. He knows it makes him seem like a polite person, but the truth is, he’s just realized he had been fully planning to ask Isak about fucking cornflakes. With a sinking feeling he realizes the blond boy is about to ask him about lacrosse, their safe topic.

“You played Mags in fifa last night right? Isn’t he just-” Even misses the rest of what comes out of his mouth. He can only focus on the fact that Isak is actually talking to him about something he isn’t obligated to. Sure, it’s about Magnus and their friend group has proven to be a bit of a safe topic for them. But Even believes in crawling before you walk and walking before you run, so he’ll take what he can get.

By the time they get to the building that houses Durhams lacrosse team, basketball team, and soccer team, Even is feeling more comfortable than ever. The lump in his throat is long gone, they’ve managed to discuss the upcoming dinner and their plans for rooming. He’s managed to make Isak laugh a whole five times in a row (but who’s counting?) so he’s feeling pretty great.

The first thing Even does when he gets in his room is shut the blinds. Then he flops over onto his bed. The room is exactly the way he left it in the morning, clothes strewn on the floor and the extra bed. There’s an odd stillness to the room, a sharp contrast to the jam-packed stadium he’s just played in. Normally, the constant sound of groups of people running through the hallway and the sound of his neighbors make him feel content and safe enough.

Even completely appreciates John, his current therapist, who had somehow managed to pull so many strings that Even became one of only four people in the entire building without a roommate. Sometimes when he really thinks about it, he feels like he possibly over exaggerated about just how difficult it was to share a room with Chris. Whenever he begins to regret pulling the mental health card for room assignments, **something** happens to remind him just how blessed he is. Last month, for example, Justin had come to practice in a completely terrible mood because the night before his roommate got shitfaced and puked all over his bed.

Normally when the loneliness really hits he’ll go across the hallway to Mahdi and Magnus’ room or track down Mikael. This evening is different, though. Everyone on his floor is either out with their parents or crowded in someone's room preparing for night festivities. He longs to pull on a random shirt and jeans and join the boys in Isak and Jonas’ room while doing a pre-pregame.

Instead he peels himself off the bed and gets in the shower with a cloud of self-pity looming over his head. He stays in the shower until his fingers begin to get pruney and he’s freezing from the hot water running out. His problems run through his mind one after the other. Isak, Sonja, Jaxon, loneliness. There’s no putting an end to his stream of thoughts. When he gets the urge to text Isak immediately after getting out the shower, he quickly runs with it. His mind deserves the reprieve.

To Isak (18:35): Wear black skinny jeans with your button up

To Isak (18:37): u’ll look so good trust me

 

He then goes about the business of getting dressed, trying his best not to think about how Isak is taking absolute **years** to respond. Just when he’s beginning to think he must be dumber than he thought he was, his phone pings loudly. He forces himself to finish ironing his shirt before paying any attention to his phone, a feat that proves to be harder than it should be.

 

Isak (18:50):

[Pic url (If it isn't showing up)](https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/884114252386250752/eyLI00rx_400x400.jpg)

Omg! Ur right! I look pretty good!!

 

 He has no idea what to say to that, doesn't have the time to find a good enough meme to respond with, so it simply doesn't bother and hopes Isak doesn't think he's a boring person with no meme knowledge. He’s just throwing pajamas into his overnight bag and figuring out what shoes to wear when his phone finally pings again. It’s an alert from instagram, informing him Isak Valtersen has ‘posted for the first time in awhile’. What greets him when he rapidly clicks on the notification is a picture of he and Mahdi leaning against the window in he and Jonas’ room. There's a blur of blond and red in the corner of the picture, which Isak generously explains in the caption as Magnus attempting to jump into the picture at the last moment. He ignores the fact that he’s gotten 200 likes in a minute and a half, and the adoring comments. What catches Evens eye is his outfit.

Blue button up with the sleeves buttoned to his elbow, black skinny jeans, and vans. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out whether or not the picture is from tonight when he receives another text.

From Isak (19:35): Check insta ;)

 

Even feels his eyebrows shoot up immediately. He chews on his lip as he tries to sort through his thoughts. Finally giving up on rationalizing with himself, a few minutes later finds him frantically stuffing condoms into his overnight bag.

 

 


	4. Isak

His cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, but Isak still can’t rid himself of the sense of dread that’s been in the pit of his stomach since he saw his parents in the bleachers during the game. The process of getting dressed and picking outfits has he and Jonas’ room full of energy.  Between taking pictures and making fun of Magnus, this friday night holds everything he’s become accustomed to since starting at Durham. It’s what he’d envisioned when he’d committed to the school in the first place. What he hadn’t imagined is his parents showing up and ruining the scene of his dreams, but he figures he probably shouldn’t be too surprised. His parents have a habit of showing up in what should be the happiest moments.

He tries his best to keep up with his friends. When they talk about how Magnus never gets laid, he appropriately implies it’s because of how greasy his hair is and flings a can of dry shampoo at him. When Mahdi steers the topic towards the game they’ve just played and speaks poorly of his own performance, Isak is the first to reassure him he played well and he’s just being too hard on himself. Jonas is mostly silent, so Isak figures that even if he’s managing to do a bad job of hiding exactly how miserable he is about his plans for the night, at least he’s doing a better job than Jonas.

“Bro, I think you need to get laid,” When Isak finally registers Magnus is talking to him, he quickly tosses the nearest object at him.

“You would know about needing to get laid, Mags. How long has it been? A year?”

He flings the insult back just as hard as he throws the pillow. Magus only manages to duck one of them, and Mahdi and Jonas both collapse into fits of laughter while the blond man sputters out a response. He’s unusually bothered by the comment Magnus has made, and it only hits him when the topic his long forgotten that he’s only so upset because it’s true. He hasn’t been with anyone since the guy he met in the club around three weeks ago after ending whatever it is he had with Chris, and it’s his first dry spell of such length since he turned sixteen and came out to his parents and Jonas.

His parents didn’t take it nearly as well as Jonas did. He can still remember now how his mother sent him bible quotes everyday the entire time he was away at camp that summer, a hobby she ended up being fond of, if the unread messages on his phone are to show for anything.

His father hadn’t had anything to say, and neglected to speak to his son until after he came back from his month long camp. When he’d arrived home, Isak had found at least ten bibles, courtesy of his mother, stacked on his bed. Tarje seemed determined not to care about his son's sexuality, and while he didn’t avoid the topic he didn’t bring it up much either. He was indifferent, like he was about anything about his son which had no impact on his ability to stay dedicated to his sport.

It’d been the best summer of his life. Like every summer since he’d turned eight, he’d been occupied by back to back camp sessions. Isak had made a game of hooking up with as many seniors at the camps he went to as he possibly could, and he’d even earned a bit of a reputation. He’d made sure his performance never slipped though, so there wasn’t much anyone could say to him about his sex life. If they even tried he always had a snarky response at the tip of his tongue, usually something about how maybe if they copied his way of life they could play like him. It was usually more than enough to shut up the people who dared to judge him but, in the off chance it wasn’t, there was always the fact that he was never afraid to backup his words with violence.

He’s torn out of his thoughts by loud goodbyes from Magnus and Mahdi, upon their discovery the house party they’re attending is bring your own beer. He can’t help but snicker when he pictures the hell they’re going to be going through in a few moments as they try to collect enough money to purchase the liquor.

The atmosphere in the room is unusually heavy when Magnus and Mahdi leave. Now just Isak and Jonas are left in their room, and an uncomfortable silence fills it. He focuses on busying himself with surveying the shoes he’s set up on the ground near his bed and pretending he doesn’t know his best friend is staring at him.

It’d been like this the curly headed boy had been informed of the dinner Isak is being made to attend upon his entrance into their room earlier. Initially, the information he’d given to his best friend had been met by silence. That had been followed by a quick one sided brainstorming session and, when he’d exited the shower, Isak had been informed of Jonas’ plans to accompany him to the hotel for dinner. The plan had, of course, been met with a hard no from him.

He’s aware it’s his own fault the best friends are feeling so uncomfortable around each other for the first time in around a year. He’s angry, Isak knows, but he’s angrier and figures he owes it to himself to not bothering with acknowledging his best friends emotions just this one time. And maybe it’s immature, but Isak has never claimed not to be childish, so he figures the curly headed boy will get over it.

“Isak, just take me with you dude,” Jonas tries again for about the fiftieth time in the span of an hour. Isak is relieved to find some of the anger in his voice has subsided since the last time they’d attempted to talk to each other about five minutes ago, but there’s still an undertone of irritation in the other man’s voice. He can’t bring himself to look up from the shoe set-up in front of him, despite the fact that he’s known what shoes he’s going to be wearing since he’d first decided on his outfit.

“We’ve been over this, Jonas.”

“Yeah well let’s go over it again.”

“How about we not,” Isak’s patience is growing thin. He’s managed to forget exactly how stubborn Jonas can be, and now he wants nothing more than for him to be quiet. Isak just needs some time to mentally prepare himself for everything ahead of him, but instead of quiet he’s dealing with Jonas being irritating.

“How about we do,” Jonas shoots back. Isak finally looks away from the shoes and into his best friends face. His thick eyebrows (Isak makes a mental note to remind him to get them done in the upcoming week), are knitted together, but the wrinkles that appear when he screws his face up in anger are absent. He’s full of concern, not anger.

“Bech Næsheim and his family are going to be there,” Isak senses Jonas about to cut him off and holds up a hand to stop him, “I don’t need him to think you’re with me just because I’m uncomfortable around him or something. And Jonas, you already know my dad will get pissed about having to explain to Evens family why I’ve randomly decided to invite you. I don’t want to give him more of a reason to be more mad at me than he already is. It’s better for me to just not rock the boat when it comes to this stuff.”

The first part of his explanation is complete bullshit, more of an excuse than an actual reason. He knows for a fact the captain wouldn’t just assume his reason for taking Jonas has much to do with him, but he knows Jonas has a huge soft spot for the guy so he capitalizes on it. And it works, because Jonas finally seems satisfied with his response.

“I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass about it.  I just-I want you to be okay. And if that means not being around your piece of shit dad then, guess what? I don’t want you to be around your piece of shit dad. I just want to protect you, Iss. You always think you can take on the world, and you always think you’re the strongest person to ever exist and, hear me out. You can take on the world, but you don’t have to do it alone. And you can be the strongest person I know, but you don’t have to be. You don’t have to deal with everything on your own. That’s what I’m here for, it’s what the guys are here for, it’s what Eskild’s here for. Don’t be so afraid to lean on us from time to time.”

Isak freezes in the process of putting on his shoes. There’s so much he wants to say in response to this, but all of what he wants to say also falls into the category of things he doesn’t know how to say.

“Thanks for always having my back, but I think this is something I need to deal with on my own. ,” It’s all he can manage to get out but he knows, from the way he looks at him, Jonas understands. He gets that Isak is saying thank you for much more than offering to ditch the party he’s been looking forward to all week in order to accompany him to a stuffy dinner.

“Just, call me if things aren’t okay, alright? I’ll fix it,” Jonas mutters.

Isak nods in response, and they let the topic drop.

 

He’s trying so hard to convince himself he’s okay. There’s a dull throbbing in his head, his stomach is in knots, and he can feel his father's leg knocking into his own every few seconds. Mentally, he curses himself for somehow ending up across from his dad despite being one of the first few people of their party to sit down. Earlier, there had been a kind of mad shuffle between them all for seats, and somehow he, Evens mother, and his own mother, had ended up in the most unfortunate spots. Both Marianne and Evens mom are seated next to Tarje, and while Moira seemed to be taking it in stride, he can see his mother subconsciously inching her chair in the opposite direction every few moments.

He needs a break. From his own life. He wishes he was capable of pretending it’s just the two of them sitting at the table, no Even, no Marianne, no Evens family. If it was just them he’d tell his dad to shut up after each self indulgent comment and passive aggressive joke he makes about his family. He’d shout loud enough to drown out the sound of Tarje’s voice, make it so he isn’t the most listened to person in the room for once.

Instead, he plays the part of the model son. Makes up for his mother's shortcomings. For every single one of Marianne’s odd twitches, Isak has a comment about how well he’s doing in school. Each time her eyes widen as she stares off into space at something meant for her eyes only, he throws in a remark about lacrosse, how he’s been in love with it for as long as he can remember. When Marianne gasps at the wrong part of one of Tarje’s stories and everyone stares at her, Isak jumps in with a bullshit story about how he used to force his parents to walk him to school instead of using one of their many cars.

Even when Marianne is playing her part well, he continues to go above and beyond with doing his job. He nods at all the appropriate times, laughs when his dad tells another passive aggressive joke about his son, even manages to stay quiet when Tarje implies Marianne is dressed in a way that makes her unworthy of being seen with him. All the while slowly draining a glass of red wine and ignoring the chickpea burger on the plate in front of him.

“Isak has always known Durham is the place to be. Oh, you should’ve seen him when he was younger. He was always playing lacrosse. Always. At the end of the day, even after two hours of practice, I’d have to beg him to come inside and have dinner with us. He had so many posters of the Durham lacrosse team. He even insisted on painting his room Durham blue,” Marianne says proudly while beaming at her son. She delivers this made up piece of information with such confidence Isak wonders if she believes it’s true. She’d been the reason for the change of plans, actually.. He hadn’t been interesting in going to Durham until she’d finally been diagnosed. Before then, he’d been enraptured by the idea of going to a school still establishing their lacrosse program and actually making a difference there.   Also, his room back home is white, not ‘Durham blue’.

He finds himself too startled by her unprompted participation in the conversation to even sneakily say something snarky, something he’s been doing all night. His eyes subconsciously find his father’s, and they share a look of shock before pulling their eyes away.. He’s so used to his mother only speaking when spoken to that he has to look twice to make sure it’s really her. The conversation carries on around them, and he busies himself with finishing the wine in front of him, his meal still untouched.

“Even is so in love with the sport,” Moira says, looking over at her son fondly. Even, in response to the attention of everyone at the table being on him, simply raises his eyebrows and continues stuffing food into his mouth. Isak has to hide a grin at the way Tarje grimaces at the action like he’s allergic to terrible table manners.

Marianne, apparently encouraged by the positive response her first contribution to the conversation has gotten, adds her own addition to Moira’s statement.

 

“Issy is too. Always has been. We used to have to beg him to come in, put the stick down, and eat dinner with us,” as she speaks a slow grin spreads over her face. She looks ridiculous when she quickly glances at her husband in an obvious search for signs of approval. When she gets the nod from him, she puts a hand out and strokes Isaks. It takes everything in him not to jerk his hand back. He has scars littered around his body from times he’d failed to get away from her fast enough. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything quirky like Even when everyone looks over at him. He just continues staring at the empty glass in front of him.

His leg shakes suddenly when something connects with it. The moment he realizes it’s his father nudging him to get his attention, he also notices everyone is staring at him. He’d forgotten to react to his mother's heartwarming, albeit false, bit of information about him. The end of her sentence hangs in the air. Isak allows it to stay there, hanging over the table and making the air heavy with its weight. It’s clear from his father’s action that he expects Isak to fix the uncomfortable moment he’s created. Isak doesn’t care.

The glass feels cool to the touch when he picks it up. Isak tilts the empty glass towards his mouth anyway, shivering slightly when the rim comes to a rest against his mouth. Not unlike a child, he removes the glass from it’s position at his mouth and holds it up to his eye.The scene pains him too much to be observed by the naked eye. Peering through the glass, he watches as the corner of Marianne’s mouth droop. Her lips quiver while she fights to keep the smile on her face, but it proves to be a losing battle. Most things are with her.

“Isak? Are you feeling alright, son? You’ve been a tad out of it all night.”

Tarje’s words are forced through a tight-lipped smile. The Bech Næsheim’s have resumed conversation amongst themselves, but Isak doesn’t notice. The only thing he hears are his father's words, the only thing he sees is the way his father's eyes are slightly squinted and how he grips his glass too tightly.

No, that’s wrong. He also hears his heart pounding rapidly and the way he’s swallowing his saliva too loud. In a desperate attempt to focus on anything but his parents, he looks around the table and accidentally makes eye contact with Even’s brother. Isak can’t remember his name, but he and his friends seem adorably admiring of his older brother. When their eyes meet, the boys cheeks flush red and he looks down instantly. He’s been staring at Isak all night, Isak knows. Until now he’s done him the favor of pretending not to notice.

Isak wonders what he thinks of him.

It’s all too much all of a sudden. He just wants to go to bed, to get away, to feel safe. He doesn’t want to be stared at by some kid, doesn’t want to make up for his own mother’s shortcomings, doesn’t want to do anything but get away. His phone feels heavy in his pocket and he longs to take it out. He wants to check instagram, go to a place where it feels he matters. Where people are impressed by him. Instead, he’s stuck here. Eating with his parents who, previous to them showing up at the game, he hadn’t spoken to in roughly three months.

He doesn’t know how or how long it takes, but somehow he finds himself gripping tightly onto the posh marble counter in the restaurant bathroom. He’d made his way there in a trance like state, and now he sways slowly side to side while staring at himself in the mirror. An unknown period of time later, he manages to snap out of it enough to search for his phone, For a moment he fears he’s left it at the table, and relief washes over him when he finally feels the familiar lump in his pocket.

To Jonas (21:17): i’m sorry for being a dick. Shouldve let you come

 

The phone call comes instantly.

When he picks up, Jonas’ voice now holds none of the fire Isak had heard earlier. Instead all he hears is concern and a little bit of determination.

“Iss? What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Jonas I-I can’t just sit there. My mom, she’s so,” he’s relieved Jonas ignores the break in his voice, “she’s so out of it. She’s gotten so bad. You should see her, she can’t even look at me for more than three seconds. And my dad…” He trails off, unsure what to say. It’s enough for Jonas either way because he just  **knows.** He always has.

“Listen I’m on my way to ge-shut the fuck up I’m on the phone,” only now does he remember Jonas is at a party. He’d apologize for interrupting and tell him to go back to having a good time if it didn’t feel like his heart is in his throat.

“I’m sorry for calling. I just, I have to get out of here. I need to get out. Now,” He knows he’s just saying the same thing over and over again, and he knows he isn’t making any sense at all. He hopes Jonas doesn’t grow tired of his stupidity because then he’ll really be all alone.

“I know buddy, I know,” his best friends voice is uncharacteristically soft on the other end, “tell me where you are okay? I’m on my way to get you now.”

The words calm him down. He hears keys jingling and Jonas’ hushed mumbling on the other end of the line. His heart stops pounding so loud, his fingers stop twitching, and finally his reflection in the mirror seems to come into focus. Gone is the blurriness he’d been looking at the world through for the past few minutes. Then it hits him.

“Oh my god, oh my god you can’t come here. My dad will get so fucking pissed. He’s already so angry at me,”

“Shit. Shit,” The jingling stops and movement on the other end pauses. Isak and Jonas both know Jonas doesn’t give two shits about his father's feelings, but he does care about Isak and he doesn’t want him to have to deal with the repercussions of their rash decision making.

They're both shocked into silence for so long Isak jumps when he speaks again.

“Hey, Iss? I’ve gotta go okay? Everything is gonna be fine, I promise,” And with that, he hangs up. Leaving Isak completely alone. The next time his phone pings, it breaks three minutes worth of silence.

 

Even (21:21): on my way

 

He never responds, but Even finds him anyway.

The way he harshly pushes the bathroom door open has Isak jumping out of his skin. He watches as Evens eyes crazily scan the bathroom, mentally taking note of the situation it seems. Finally, Even’s eyes find their way over to him and he seems to be one step away from making sure Isak isn’t bleeding or asking him if he’s taken any pills recently. He doesn’t, though, and for that Isak is grateful.

Growing up Isak thought he loved school. It sounded dumb whenever he tried to explain it to people, but he really, really, did. There was something so incredible to him about a building where no one actually knows you, where you can lie your ass off and never get caught if you’re careful enough.

His love for school had started when he was ten. That was when Penny Lee got busted by her nonfiction group for being a big, fat, liar. Agathe Berg had gone over to her house and found out that she did not, in fact, live in a house with eighteen bedrooms and two pools. Later that same month people had found out Alan Yang’s parents actually worked for the US embassy and he, in fact, did not come from a family of spies. They’d both been snubbed for months, but many more lying scandals had followed them being exposed.

The lies mainly centered around things like the amount of people someone had dated, or how much money someone had, things like that. The older they grew, the more the lies became centered around family life. There was a lot of discussion on whose parents were together and whose were actually divorced, and much, much confusion over whose parents were on the verge of breaking up.

Isak never had to lie about the stuff most of his peers did. His parents were together, the family was well off, and they actually did go on vacations to exotic places every break. But they weren’t normal, and that’s what he wanted to be.

So, starting at age twelve, he had begun to lie,

He created stories of a family on verge of separation, going back and forth between his parents home, how his parents never actually spoke so they communicated through a family group chat. In the stories he spun, his father had met a new, younger lady who he was determined to start over with and his mother had, in turn, flipped out and was contemplating marrying a  _poor_ guy. He told tales of arguing with a step mother who secretly hated him and dreading going home because his parents decided they wanted to work things out with each other but all they ever did was argue.

His favorite stories involved made up therapy sessions.

In reality, his home life was quiet. There was no evil step-mom, no poor guy trying to replace his father, not therapy sessions, no parent’s who couldn’t quit arguing with each other. Instead, when he got home from school each day he was met by a nanny whose job it was to drive him around. His parents never argued, in fact, he barely saw them together. His father slept in what probably should’ve been a guest room but was instead, an alternative to his mother commanding him to sleep on the couch. His mother spent days on end locked in her room, and his father was often indifferent to everything going on.

The only arguing was between Tarje and Isak. Tarje would say something snarky to Marianne, and she’d either be too out of it or too blinded to defend herself. So Isak would hop in, say something snarky, stand up for his mother. Sometimes their arguments would get physical and, while Isak would walk away with more than just a few bruises, he was always satisfied by the idea that his father was hurt as well.

Isak had explained some of this to Jonas once, when his days of lying about having what he considered a normal family were long over. Even when they were younger Jonas had always known the truth behind the stories Isak would tell, but he’d still back him up on them. It was when Isak had told Jonas he loved school because he could be anyone he wanted to be, that Jonas had informed Isak he didn’t actually like school, he just liked being anywhere but home.

Isak had taken the information about himself and ran with it. He was never home all day, and his parents were lucky if they saw him more than three times a week. His mother wasn’t in the right mind to care about anything other than herself, and often still the only thing she cared about was Jesus, and his father was so caught up with ignoring the problems in his life that he never had time for him anyway, so it worked out for Isak. It was a silent agreement between them. As long as Isak kept showing up for lacrosse practice and fulfilling his school obligations, his father would never do something like contact social services, and as long as his father didn’t contact social services, Isak would come back every once in awhile to care for his mother.

Their agreement became more than slightly complicated when Tarje discovered he, too, enjoyed not being at home and made a habit of running away. When Tarje was gone Isak had to be there for Marianne instead, and he’d been forced to go back to using school as a safe space.

Which is why it’s an issue for his captain to see him like this. He doesn’t know what Jonas said to get Even to come look for him, but whatever it is has Even completely on edge. Except he pretends it doesn’t. Poorly.

He has no idea how, but Even manages to get them back to their room and keep up a steady conversation despite Isak’s zombie like state. The tears have long since dried, but he knows he still looks like shit. Even is kind enough to ignore it though, so he refuses to apologize for it.

When they arrive at their room Even stops rambling. After digging through the duffel bag he has brought, he hands Isak pajamas. Dumbly, Isak stands there and stares at him until he patiently helps him with the process of putting the clothes on.

From there, Even gently pushes him over to one of the beds and kneels in front of him. He’s speaking, Isak knows that much, but he has no idea what he’s saying. His brain is busy taking in other things, like how much his hair flops when his head moves and how pink his lips are. It also occurs to him that Even has the most used eyebrows he has ever seen. It’s only after making the observation about his brows that he realizes Even has stopped speaking. Despite having no idea at all what the older man has just said, he nods slowly. He guesses he’s made the correct decision when Even makes the same face he does during practice when offense manages to pull off a fastbreak even though defense is putting 100% into the drill, and a moment later Evens phone is being pressed against his face.

Jonas is on the other line, and slowly Isak comes to enough to respond to him. He does things like apologize profusely for telling Even about his panic attack and ask Isak how he’s feeling. While he does put effort into answering the questions he’s exhausted and soon hands the phone back to Even, who’s stripped down to his boxers.

“Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much of your burger,” Even says this casually, while in the process of getting into his own bed. He’s treating it like just another day on the job, and it occurs to Isak that as a captain it probably is. Still, Isak is grateful for the lack of awkwardness in the air.

“Nah. Not really,” he mumbles.

“Oh. Well okay. If you are just tell me alright? Your dad,” here, Isak cringes, “mentioned he’ll pay for it and room service runs until three. I’m sure they have cor-I’m sure they have something you’d like.”

Isak nods, even though he knows Even can’t see him since he’s switched the lamp off. Silence sweeps over the room for long enough for him to wonder whether or not Even is sleeping, when Even’s voice suddenly fills the air. Isak pictures silence as a bright red mist in the room and Even’s voice as a royal purple, shoving the quiet out. He likes Even’s voice, he realizes. Since Even is his captain and ever reliable, he’s come to associate his voice with safety and well thought out plans.

“My little brother has a massive crush on you, you know? He thinks you’re the best thing since like sliced bread. Says you’re like, beautiful or whatever,” Even says with a laugh.

“Aww really? That’s adorable,” Isak says, and he hopes Even can’t tell he’s smiling. It’s refreshing to meet someone in real life who appreciates him for more than what he’s capable of doing on the field.

“He follows your instagram account even though he doesn’t even follow mine,” Isak hears the pout in his voice, “he was completely freaking out over coming to dinner with you.”

“Remind me tomorrow and I’ll follow him back.”

Even mumbles his ascent and once again, they’re plunged into silence. Isak tries to resist the urge to ask Even whether or not everyone thinks he’s rude now, how angry Tarje looked, and how long dinner lasted after he left, so he bites his tongue in an attempt to keep quiet.

“I can hear you thinking from here. Everything is fine, it’s been dealt with,” Even says, and Isak can hear the bed shifting as he gets up, “Come smoke with me, maybe it’ll calm you down,” as he speaks he gestures to a set of doors leading to a balcony and begins digging through his bag, presumably for weed. Isak’s smoked with him and he knows he’s super chill when high, unlike the ultra talkative Magnus, so he shrugs and climbs out of bed also.

On his way to the balcony, it hits him that he never packed a pajama shirt, yet he has one on anyway. Next he notices how the bottoms are too long and he keeps sliding on them. At the same moment, he realizes his bag is still lying unopened by the closet, right where he’d left it before dinner when he’d ran up to drop it off. Finally, he takes in Even’s lean body and the fact that he’s only clad in boxers, and can’t help it when a small smile makes it’s way onto his face.


	5. Chapter 5

When Isak wakes up the next morning, it’s to a seemingly empty room. He squeezes his eyes shut tight again and attempts to remember the details of last night. The events come back to him, and it makes sense that the pajamas he has on feel so long and unfamiliar.

A door slams across the room and there’s a quiet, barely audible curse. 

Even. 

Isak hurries to sit up on the bed. As soon as he does so, he makes eye contact with his assistant captain. 

Even’s hair is dripping wet, and Isak thinks to himself that if he were to crane his neck more, he’d probably see a puddle forming on the hotel carpet. A bright white towel is hanging low on his hips, and Isak notes with surprise that his skin looks baby soft. It’s completely smooth. Isak doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“Oh shit, sorry. These damn doors are so irritating, didn’t think it’d slam,” Even says. 

Isak gives a lazy wave, brushing off the comment and realizing he’s been gawking up at Even since he entered the room. He watches in silence as Even begins bustling around the room and getting dressed for the day, humming as he does so. After a few minutes of willing himself to get up, he finally does so and enters the bathroom. 

Minutes later, he finds that the shower provides him with none of the mental peace he’d been hoping for. Even seems to have used all the hot water, so the best Isak can get is a few minutes of warm water before the water runs icy, there’s no bottle of shampoo, and the hotel provided conditioner is a tiny container of disgustingly cheap product. He’d also forgotten to grab his towel from his bag, and he had a problem with the idea of using hotel towels. Still, he’s determined to get dressed away from Even’s watchful eyes, and awkwardly fans himself as means of air drying, then tugs on a pair of jeans and a random shirt, which he quickly realizes is actually Chris’.

He ends up leaving the bathroom feeling much more frazzled than when he’d entered. 

When he exits the bathroom, his gaze lands on Even, who is scrolling aimlessly on his phone. As Isak makes his way to his bag and begins drying his hair, he wonders absentmindedly what Even is busy doing. He’s notorious among both fellow players and fans for his infrequent use of social media. Not that it seemed to stop fans from trying to get with him by means of social media, if Even’s constant flood of DM notifications Mikael always talked about was anything to go off of. 

After drying his hair, he attempts to brush it multiple times before giving up and putting a snapback on instead. He settles himself on the edge of his bed, then picks his phone up and slowly, but determinedly, begins making his way through all 409 of his notifications. 

There are a few messages from the team chat, which seems to just be a few of the boys wondering if they have practice today. He swipes out of that without answering.

There are a few notifications from old team chats, teams he played with when he was younger. He ignores those too, but makes a note to himself to check on them later. 

Then there are texts from Chris, who’s been relentlessly trying to get back together or something. The texts seem to be rambling about how Chris had accidentally called his hookup Isak. Isak tells himself he doesn’t care, and deletes the thread without responding. 

Finally, he opens instagram.

Ignoring all notifs from the app of comments, likes, and DMs, he searches ‘Bech næsheim’ in his list of followers, then begins scrolling. A few seconds of scrolling makes it clear that there are more than a few fan accounts whose names involve Even, so the task is going to be more time consuming than he’d originally expected. Isak sighs. 

About a minute in to scrolling, Isak passes Even’s account. He attempts to keep going, but finds himself scrolling back to the account and checking out his posts. A quick glance up shows him the man is lying in bed, typing rapidly. The look on Even’s face, coupled with the aggression in his typing, makes Isak pity whoever is on the other sign of the conversation. 

He goes back to his own phone screen and, a few minutes later, just when he’s ready to give up on the whole thing, he finds what he’s looking for. His fingers hover a profile with the username Jaxon.BechNaesssh and squints at the profile picture to confirm that yes, it is, in fact, the kid from dinner yesterday. Even’s little brother. 

He means to just quickly hit follow then exit the app. But when he clicks on the profile and finds that it’s public, with a hundred or so photos, he can’t force himself not to look through the posts. 

He quickly peeks up at Even, who is chewing on his lip in what looks like frustration. 

After scrolling through the most recent posts, Isak is bored out of his mind. Jaxon is just a normal, boring, high school boy. Then he comes across a video from around a year ago. It’s a video of Even and Jaxon cliff diving. Jaxon had happily captioned it “family time :)”. 

He watches the video three times before convincing himself to keep scrolling through the account. 

The next post to capture his attention doesn’t involve Even at all, seemingly. Instead it is a picture of a particularly young looking Jaxon seated next to a blonde girl with short hair and a flirty look in her eyes, both of them beaming at the camera. Jaxon hadn’t captioned it, but a comment from Even regarding a lack of picture creds tells Isak what he needs to know. He finally hits follow back, then closes out of the account. 

“Isak, you ready to go? My mum just texted me they’re waiting,” Even says, already standing by the door. Isak had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the movement disturbing the peace in the room.

“Yeah, of course. Just like, give me a sec.”

After shoving his phone in his pocket, fixing his snapback around three times, and putting on his vans, Isak joins him by the door. 

Even turns to leave, and Isak means to let him, but almost against his own will, he finds himself grabbing his teammates wrist. The urge to do it had been both uncontrollable and uncalled for, and when Even turns to meet his gaze Isak realizes he doesn’t have an explanation. 

“I just wanted to say thanks for last night. For helping me out.”

Both their proximity and the fact that his hand is on Even makes the proclamation incredibly intense. He forces himself to remove his grip around Even’s hand and instead settles it unnaturally on the wall. 

Even’s gaze steadily follows the journey of the hand, before he smiles widely. 

“I really don’t mind sharing the weed, it wasn’t expensive at all. No need to be so nervous.”

And with that, he opens the door and briskly walks down the hallway, leaving Isak struggling to keep up.

……  
Brunch starts off decently. No one mentions his disappearance the night before, so Isak, in turn, does not bring it up. His father ends up being late to the meal, busy doing God knows what, but Marianne shows up on time. 

She’d enveloped Isak in a hug upon her arrival to the table, and he’d hugged her back, reminding himself that she’d be gone in just a few hours. When Terje had arrived at the table, he’d explained his absence as due to a “business related conference call”, then snarkily added that someone had to work to support Isak’s expensive lifestyle. Isak had recognized the baiting technique and, instead of responding, had asked Jaxon to pass the toast. 

Now he sits restlessly in his spot across from his father, forcing himself to resist the urge to take out his phone. Everyone else seems to be having a good enough time, but he’s bored out of his mind. Even is constantly engaged in conversation and acting kind of weird, Jaxon and his friends clam up when he tries to talk to them, and he’d rather die than have a conversation with his own parents. So Isak sits in his own little bubble of detached negativity. 

To comfort himself, he begins running through his predictions for winners of the games that are going to be played today. None of the teams playing are even close to being on the same level as Durham, but Isak likes to keep up with as many teams as he can, and he has a few friends on some of them. 

The cold sensation of his mother’s hand landing on his arm tears Isak away from the stats running through his head. Marianne is chattering endlessly about something, and it takes a few moments to realize she is talking about some kind of orange juice. 

“Oh Issy-” he winces. No one really calls him that anymore except Chris. “It’s freshly squeezed! You can even see them squeezing the oranges!”

Somehow, he knows what that means. He hands her his own untouched glass of the juice, and watches as her face lights up in childish joy. He has to look away from her, the discomfort destroying his body, and he drops the bit of grapefruit he’d been eating. Suddenly it tastes like chalk. 

“So, Isak, you planning on carrying us to the finals?”

It takes him longer than it probably should to realize Mr. Bech Næsheim has spoken to him. They’d spoken a little the night before, and it’d gone fairly well, but Isak still doesn’t feel mentally ready to be in a real conversation with the legend.

Even’s father is an average looking, albeit oddly handsome, forty something year old. A random person on the street probably wouldn’t be very impressed by him, but Isak certainly is. Because he knows Mr. Bech Næsheim knows more than a few things about carrying teams to the finals, considering the fact that he’d done it multiple times years before Isak and Even were even capable of picking up a stick. He’d set countless records in his golden days, and deserved a lot of respect. 

“Well, I do plan on us making it to the finals. Don’t think I’ll exactly be ‘carrying’ us, though. We’ve got a pretty talented team and everyone is proving time and time again that we’re capable of doing our own part,” Isak visibly grimaces at his own interview like response as soon as he’s said it. 

“Wow. Spoken like someone with true talent. You impress me Valtersen, I’m glad to see you on a team with my Even. I’m enjoying getting the chance to watch you play in person.”

Isak smiles in response, but makes sure not to smile too widely. He doesn’t want anyone to think he’s a tryhard. It means a lot to him to have one of the greats in the business call him talented. Secretly, he’s always felt average and doubted his abilities on the field.

When he scans the table out of boredom a few minutes later, the conversation having moved on, he meets Even’s gaze. For some reason, he expects to see amusement, which seems to be his default emotion, written on his face. All he finds is curiosity. 

He raises his eyebrows, feeling nervous under the steady gaze. 

All Even does is smile and look away. 

The meal passes in a blur from that point on. He finally manages to have a conversation with Jaxon, who is very actively avoiding the topic of instagram. His mother sips happily on her freshly squeezed orange juice. And even Terje seems too surprised by Even’s father complimenting Isak to be as much of a terror as he normally is. 

The brunch is good. The families say their goodbyes to each other, and Even disappears to help his family pack up and checkout, leaving Isak feeling forced to do the same. 

Marianne, Terje, and Isak walk in silence from the dining room to the elevator, then from the elevator to the room they’ve booked. It’s only when they break the silence, that things go wrong. 

It starts with Marianne asking if people will look at her weird for wearing makeup at the airport. Isak doesn’t think anyone will give a fuck, and wants to say as much, but holds his tongue. Because if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all. 

Terje doesn’t have the same view. 

“Oh, shut up Marianne. No one cares if you wear makeup or not, they’ll be concerned with much more important matters.”

For other couples, maybe that response wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But Terje and Marianne are not other couples, they are not Even’s perfectly normal parents.

Silently, Isak wills his mother not to cry. A beat passes. Then two. And just when they seem to be in the clear, a loud sob rips through the room. 

“Fucking hell, Marianne,” Terje says exasperatedly. 

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Isak joins them across the room and pulls his mother gently towards the bed, where she considers sobbing.

“Or what? Stop babying her. That’s the reason she’s the way she is in the first place!”

“She’s sick! You can’t talk to her like that and expect her to be okay. Have you even been taking care of her? Has she been taking her medication? Is she seeing the therapist?”

“Isak! She’s a grown woman. If we monitor her like she’s a child then she’ll think it’s okay to continue acting like a damn baby. And that’s the last thing we need.”

Marianne cries louder. Isak steps closer to his father. 

“You know she’s not a child. I know she’s not a child. But don’t play stupid. We both know she needs to be monitored. I refuse to go back and forth with you on this. Either take care of her properly, put her in a home, or i’m coming home to take care of her,” Isak is surprised by his close proximity to his father, and realizes he can’t even remember how he got this close. 

“Fine. I’ll make sure she’s watched more closely. Anything to keep you from coming home. I put up with you for seventeen years and that was more than enough for me.”

Isak laughs drily, finding no real humor in the situation. His father is a child in search of a fight, but Isak refuses to give him one. 

“Look, I’m going to get out of here. Because the last thing she needs is us screaming. That and I know you want a fight. But if we fight right now I just might kill you. And I refuse to let you ruin my life any fucking more. So have a safe flight,” Isak turns, “mom, I love you. Text me if anything happens,” he presses a kiss against her cheek, still soaked with tears.

And with that, he does what he’s best at and leaves. 

When he ends up back at he and Even’s room a few minutes later, he is surprised to see the other man already back. Neither of them ask each other for any explanation for their early appearances, and instead set about packing their stuff up. 

“You followed Jax back?”

“Uh yeah,” Isak answers absentmindedly as he attempts to fold the jeans he’d worn last night back up.

“That was nice of you.”

“No, not really. All I did was hit something on a screen. You’re the nice one. And you won’t even accept my thank you,” Isak doesn’t mean to say all that he does. Control hasn’t been his strong suit lately. 

“Because I don’t need you to say thanks. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome, Isak.”

Isak shivers at the way his name sounds leaving Even’s mouth. They let the conversation fizzle. 

“You going to Nate’s party?”

“Definitely,” Isak answers. Truthfully, he needs to blow off some steam and has been looking forward to the party since Nate mentioned he was planning it. Free weed and booze were right up his alley. 

“Oh cool, I guess I’ll see you there.”

……

Isak does not go to Nate’s party. 

An argument hours earlier with Jonas, in which Jonas had told him he thought it was a good time for Isak to look into getting a therapist again, had left him in a horrible mood. 

The thing is, he wasn’t angry or sad, or even frustrated. He’d been introspective. Isak hated being forced to think about himself and the way he felt about things. He’d decided that what he needed tonight wasn’t to lose control and forget everything, but instead to just sit at home and recover from his whirlwind of a weekend. 

And that had been going great, until he’d realized how incredibly hungry he was. It felt like his stomach was turning in on itself. 

So he’d walked down to the convenience store in his pajamas and, completely unable to stop himself, bought multiple bags of gummy worms. 

He’s on his way back into the building when he spots Even, who stops and holds the door open for him.

They step into the bright lobby and stop to drink in the sight of each other. 

Even is dressed nicely, in well fitting skinny jeans and an expensive looking t-shirt that seems to depict some type of movie scene. It makes Isak feel particularly stupid in his pajamas which, he realizes, are Even’s. He’s already had three bags of the gummy worms already, too, in the short walk back from the convenience store, so he’s feeling pretty weird. He’s hyper and disgusted with himself all at once.

Even smiles down at him.

“Nice PJs.”

Despite himself, Isak feels his cheeks flush pink. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I meant to just wash these and give them back.”

“No, it’s no big deal. I’m just teasing. They’re comfortable, I can’t blame you,” Isak sees his eyes land on the bag and its contents. Even’s facial expression changes to something unreadable.

He tenses up and his cheeks flush again in preparation for Even saying something about the snacks. He prepares to have to defend himself and pretend to laugh at whatever unintentionally hurtful thing is probably going to leave Even’s mouth. 

“Are you down to watch a movie with me? We can order takeout or something too?”

He feels his body relax as it becomes clear Even will not be bringing up the snacks, the meal plan, or anything of the sort, and he nods. 

“Right now?”

“No better time than the present, right? It’s cool if you don’t want to though.”

The thing is, Isak does want to. Really bad. And his self control has been slacking lately. So a few minutes later, he finds himself standing in Even’s room. 

“I’m gonna go take my stuff off, you get comfortable,” Even says as he heads towards the bathroom. 

Isak nods, too busy looking around the room to formulate a response. 

Even’s room is nothing like he’d expected it to be. There aren’t any trophies around, and he doesn’t have any spare sticks in sight. In fact, it takes a moment to even find his stick, and it ends up being unceremoniously thrown on the ground by the extra bed. His workout clothes, helmet, and, on closer inspection, a copy of the meal plan, are in a messy pile on the spare bed. 

It’s so unlike he and Jonas’ room. There aren’t any chances of stumbling on random spare sticks, or coming across a meal plan hung on the whiteboard. To Isak, the room looks empty, and his eyes don’t stop scanning the room in expectation of finding some kind of plaque or trophy somewhere.

Isak hears the water turn on in the bathroom and continues glancing around curiously, then begins surveying the walls. There aren’t any posters or motivational quotes. Instead, there are sketches. Lots of sketches. He recognizes a cartoon Mikael in one, and a cartoon Jonas in another. He even sees a stupid Magnus quote written on one. But there isn’t anything related to him. He can’t stop the sense of disappointment that washes over him, and reminds himself to be rational.

He sits on the edge of the bed, realizing that at some point the water had turned off.

One final thing catches his eye. 

The medication.

On the bedside table, right next to an old-fashioned alarm clock, are three containers of medication. He forces himself to look away, and immediately meets the patient gaze of Even. He’s leaning against the bathroom doorway, seemingly waiting for Isak to get comfortable. Isak notes that this is a thing Even does a lot, and files it away mentally.

“You ready?” 

Isak nods in response and sends Even a small smile, patting the spot next to him on the bed. 

He pretends not to notice Even’s blush as he strides over.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta (also on ao3 as @valtermeme) for all the help with editing. Hope you all enjoy :)

_Mandag_

  
The first thing Even notices when he wakes up the next morning is that there’s an obnoxious alarm going off directly to the left of his head.

The second thing he notices is that he’s hard.

An alarm on his phone loudly alerts him to the fact that he's missed his morning dose. Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, he reaches next to him and slides the alarm off. Next, he turns over because he’s certain the last thing Isak wants to wake up to is the feeling of Even’s dick pressing against his ass.

Throwing a hand over his face, he turns over and attempts to go back to sleep. He’s just managed to drift off a bit when the sound of a ringtone pierces through the room. Even sighs and turns back to his phone, preparing to answer the call, when he makes the realization that his phone is not the one ringing.

“Isak...Isak. Get up,” he mumbles, lightly pushing the sleeping boy.

To his frustration and slight amusement, Isak doesn’t stir. After a minute or so, the ringing stops. The room is left in silence, but Even quickly discovers that he’s unable to go back to sleep. A peek at his phone tells him it’s barely 8am, and his body is itching for him to climb out of bed and get his day started.

He manages to kick the sheet off his left leg and has just begun pushing himself out of bed, when it occurs to him that the boy sleeping next to him might not be as unbothered by his need to get moving as Sonja had always been.

Even had always felt energized by the morning. The sun shining, birds chirping, and overall sense of productivity that came with the sunrise had always been a stimulant for him. This morning is no different, despite the fact that he and Isak had been up until three the night before.

Even turns to look at the sleeping boy as he thinks. The night before had been incredibly spontaneous, and Even had almost immediately regretted his decision to ask Isak to stay over. Because the truth was, he simultaneously knows both a lot about Isak and nothing at all. Even knows about all the colleges Isak considered before ending up at Exeter, he knows that Isak holds ground ball records with three different youth leagues based in Oslo, and he knows Isak is great under pressure and more than capable of putting up game winning points without a second thought. But none of that is important to Even.

As Isak suddenly lets out a soft snore, Even mentally files away the fact that the boy is an extremely deep sleeper. Along with the fact that Isak is apparently prone to anxiety attacks, it is one of few important things he knows about him. He also now knows that Isak rarely watches movies, but when he does they are extremely horrible, and that he supposedly hadn’t cried during The Titanic the night before, yet had still felt the need to duck out to the bathroom at the end of the movie. He’d returned with blotchy cheeks and slightly reddened eyes. The final piece of important information Even now knows about Isak is that he really, really, likes gummy worms. Or something.

Even turns himself carefully again, and finds himself peeking over at Isak. The boys body is undoubtedly nice. He’s extremely lean, and Even doubts that there’s even a bit of unneeded fat on his body. Even bets he never veers away from the meal plan. The junk food had seemed so uncharacteristic for him, and it’d been part of what encouraged Even to impulsively invite him up to his room the night before.

Even allows himself time to admire Isak as he waits for him to wake up. Even has to admire the way Isak looks in his clothing, and his gaze follows the point where the shirt has ridden up to expose soft, milky white, skin Even knows leads to the soft curve of his ass. He instantly feels irritated with himself as he realizes that this has done nothing more than increase his need for a morning wank. He looks away.

Since the first phone call had come in, Isak’s phone had been incessantly pinging with constant messages. Now however, it rings for the second time in the morning. Even allows it to ring out completely as Isak continues to sleep. He’s beginning to climb out of bed when the phone begins to ring for a third time.

He picks the phone up, intending to just hand it to the younger boy, when the contact name catches his attention. “Anti-capitalist fucker”, it reads.

“ _Jonas_ ,” he thinks. So without a second thought, Even answers the call.

“Uh, hello?”

There’s silence on the other line. Even takes the chance to get out of bed and cross the room to the bathroom, where he proceeds to shut the door softly. Not that its necessary; he’s starting to think Isak is capable of sleeping through a tornado.

The person is silent for so long that Even starts second guessing himself. What if Isak just happens to hang out with more than one person who hated capitalism? There would be no way for Even to know.

“Even?” Even heaves a sigh of relief when Jonas’ voice finally fills his ear.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Even said. The other boy doesn’t respond, and it suddenly occurs to Even that it might be a good idea to tell Jonas why, exactly, he’s answering his best friend’s phone, “Isak’s still sleeping. He stayed over last night.”

“Oh. Okay.”

More silence, this time for so long that Even has to check to make sure Jonas hasn’t hung up. He’s painfully aware of how hard he is, and of the fact that on the other side of the door there is a model-like boy wearing his clothing. He needs to get rid of Jonas.

“Anything you want me to tell him?” he asks, hoping he sounds cheerful and happy to help instead of horny and desperate to get off like he actually feels.

“Ye-well no. Nothing I can’t tell him later. Just wanted to check in on him.”

“Okay, great. I’m gonna go take a piss now. Ha det,” Even hangs up before Jonas has the chance to respond, and practically throws the phone down on the counter. Though eager, he is still careful, and makes sure to lock the bathroom door and turn the shower on high.

When he emerges minutes later, it’s to the sight of Isak frantically searching the bed.

“Looking for this?” he asks, holding up the phone.

Okay so, it isn’t Even’s first time doing this. He’s been a horny teenage boy for a few years now, and knows what it’s like to go from jacking off to someone straight into a conversation with them. But that someone has almost always been Sonja, save for that one time a few months ago, after he’d come to the bone crushing realization that he was sexually attracted to Mikael.

All of a sudden, Even doesn’t know how to act.

“Heads up,” he says before throwing the phone in the general direction of the bed. He doesn’t have to look to know Isak will effortlessly catch the phone. Instead, he busies himself with picking out an outfit and packing his gym bag. His first lecture is at 10, and he likes to get there early in order to get a good seat down the middle.

“Is this your weird way of kicking me out?”

The amusement in Isak’s voice is clear, but the question still gets Even’s heart pounding. He turns to face Isak, who hasn’t made any moves to get out of the bed and has made himself comfortable propped against the pillows and typing away on his phone. Truth be told, Even had just assumed Isak would be in a hurry to go.

“No,” Even snorts, “just getting ready for my day. It’s already like 9:30, sleeping beauty,” he teases.

“Woah. You’re not allowed to call me that,” Isak sounds so serious that Even swears he feels his heart stop. He’s immediately afraid that somehow the little comment has undone all of the work he’s just put into getting Isak comfortable. His fears are quickly put to rest when, upon squinting a bit, he notices Isak is grinning.

“Oh! I talked to Jonas.”

This fully gets Isak’s attention, and he places his phone down on the bed. Even wonders if he’d simply ignored all the missed calls and unread text messages.

He continues, “Shit sorry, I know it’s weird to answer your phone like that. He called you like three times though. I swear you’re the heaviest sleeper in the universe.”

Isak ignores the quip.

“Did he say anything important?”

“Nah, he was just checking on you. Anti-capitalist fucker, huh? What did Jonas and his love for communism ever do to you?”

Isak’s laugh is loud and unexpected. Even had learned the night before that they always were. His heart leaps in his chest.

“I should get going, I want to try to fit in a run,” Isak says after glancing at the time.

Suddenly Isak is up out of bed and putting on his vans. Even wants to stop him. He’d imagined the goodbye much differently, with him making promises to do the whole thing again, maybe even them stopping in the dining hall together for breakfast. But Isak clearly hadn’t had the same idea.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. We should really do this a-” the door to his room closes.

Even is alone.

……

_Mandag evening_

 

  
Even wishes he was at practice.

Instead he sits in his therapist’s office, waiting for the man to join him. Even had showed up early for his appointment in hopes of being able to get out early and catch at least the last half of practice, but it didn’t look like it was going to happen.

It isn’t that he dislikes therapy, it’s that it’s just so time consuming. Trying to fit in two hours twice a week to talk to someone was just so difficult to do. Between classes, school work, practice, working out, and traveling for games, not to mention actually playing them, it was difficult to decide what to cut out in order to make it to his appointments. His psychiatrist, parents, and Sonja, had, however, made it clear many times that therapy isn’t optional.

He successfully entertains himself for a full minute by spinning around in the chair before becoming bored out of his mind. The receptionist had told him to just go right in and that Jon would join him in a minute. Even started to wonder if this was some weird therapy trick. “Maybe they’re actually writing down everything I’m doing right now,” he thinks to himself, looking around the room paranoidly.

Even sighs and takes out his phone, his internet browser automatically opening to a lacrosse forum. He deceives himself for a few minutes and types Durham into the search box, though he has almost no interest in knowing what people think of their performance so far. Finally, he lets up the jig and searches Isak’s name.

There are twenty more discussion threads about him than there’d been the last time Even had checked around two weeks ago. A few of the discussions are downright ridiculous, Even thinks, as he comes across a thread of people discussing whether or not Isak is really giving up lacrosse at the end of the season and going to the states to model. Others are more interesting and less outlandish. Even zeroes in on a specific thread.

IsakYakiii4: I heard the weirdest thing ever about isak today and i dont even know how to feel?? It isn’t lacrosse related but i know some of u really get try to develop personal connections with the players so i thought i’d bring it up anyway. I know someone whose boyfriend went to camp with isak last summer and he said hes like scary about dieting. His body looks pretty different too, idk if I’m the only one who’s noticed

 

Diehardlax: honestly probably true about the diet but idk why that’s a bad thing? He’s still got his crazy speed, and his lax career is going nowhere but up so Ithink we should mind our own business. It could also just be puberty

Even puts his phone away as his therapist enters and sits at his desk.

“Even, buddy! Long time no see,” Jon says.This is a bit passive aggressive because Even had cancelled both appointments with him last week, but he ignores it as Jon speaks again,“How’ve you been?”

He isn’t completely sure how to answer. From earlier in the morning when Isak had more or less run out on him, his day had greatly improved. At least until this point, when he found himself sitting in a stuffy room missing what was arguably one of the most important parts of his day.

“It’s been fine.”

Jon nods his head but doesn’t respond, clearly waiting for Even to elaborate. He wishes people would stop doing that to him. The thing is, though, Even can’t stand silence. So it always works on him.

“This weekend my family came down to see me play.”

Jon writes something in the journal he has carefully angled away from Even and waves his hand, encouraging him to go on.

“It was okay. I saw Jaxon,” Even smiles involuntarily here, “-that’s my little brother.”

Jon smiles back, “I know, Even. How was your time with them?”

“It was mostly fine. Uh-at the end my mum and I, we got into a little bit of a spat.”

Even pauses to let his gaze travel the room until it settles on the window behind Jon.

“Well, what was it about? Did you know?”

“She still doesn’t trust me. To manage my,” he waves his hand around lazily, “disorder. She kept saying she doesn’t mean to be overbearing about it, but it’s just ‘hard’ without Sonja here,” he swallows harshly.

“How did that make you feel?”

“Angry? I’m not sure. I just don’t get why they can’t just let what Sonja and I had go. It’s irritating.”

“Even, I think the word you’re looking for is betrayed. Hurt and angry? We’ve spoken before about how your parents view of your mental health and your own ability to manage makes you feel,” Jon says helpfully.

Even is reminded of why therapy is so helpful for him. It’s nice to feel like someone is finally on his side, even if they are just carefully reiterating what Even has already said.

“It’s just insulting. And they don’t get why. They just think I’m being ungrateful.”

“Well are you?”

“No. Sometimes I need space to breathe and be by myself without people on my ass, you know?”

“Might help if you told them that, then,” Jon says. As if it’s that easy.

Even doesn’t have the energy to be angry with him today. He’s too distracted. He wonders what they’re doing at practice, wonders what he’s going to have for dinner, wonders whether or not Jonas and the boys have time to hangout, wonders if Isak will show up.

“Anything else on your mind, Even?”

He clamps his mouth shut, willing himself not to do it. It must be the wholehearted lack of judgement in Jon’s eyes, or the fact that he doesn’t have anything else to say and hates silence. Whatever the reason, Even spills.

“There’s a guy. On my team. He’s a fresher,“ Even fiddles with the clasp on his watch, “we’re friends, I guess. Anyway, his family was staying too and we ended up sharing a room. I don’t know if he’s like, okay? He had something, an anxiety attack I think,” Even stops abruptly. He isn’t sure exactly what he means to tell Jon.

“Okay. And you think it was because of something you did?” Jon writes something else in his notebook.

“What? No. What the hell?”

  
_……_

  
_Mandag Night_

Even thinks he might be lonely. Being in his room makes him feel empty and sad, so on his way up from dinner, which he’d eaten alone in the mess hall, he takes as long as he possibly can to return.

He’s in the middle of figuring out whether to watch a movie or try to squeeze in more gym time, when he’s torn out of his thoughts.

“Even! Wait up!”

He spins around and comes face to face with Mahdi.

“Mahdi! Hi,” he says as they quickly do their handshake.

“What’s up? You weren’t at practice today.”

“Shit yeah, sorry about that,” Even rubs the back of his neck nervously, “something came up, had a commitment to something.”

If Mahdi thinks it’s weird he doesn’t show it, instead nodding easily as he and Even begin making their way up the stairs.

“You wanna come back to Jonas’ room? We’re hanging out. Might smoke a little.”

Even is pathetic enough to pretend he has to think about it while they make their way up to their floor. He waits until the last possible moment to say yes, then ducks into his own room to change into something more comfortable. He checks his appearance three times before leaving the room, making sure he looks good enough to be seen by everyone. By the time he knocks on Isak and Jonas’ door, he’s settled on Adidas track pants, a random Durham hoodie, and slides. It’s an outfit he looks good in.

When Isak opens the door, the smell of weed instantly hits Even. He closes the door behind himself quickly, scared to attract any other athletes they’ll be forced to share with.

“Fy faen it boofs in here,” he laughs, striding across the room to open a window.

Everyone in the room is scattered in different positions with an awful-ass Post Malone song playing in the background. Jonas and Mahdi are settled on the ground engaged in a heated game of FIFA, Magnus leaning against Jonas’ bed, with two guys from either the football or rugby team sitting next to him in conversation. Isak is seated on his bed with a dazed look on his face.

 

He makes his way over to Isak and sits next to him, taking the jay from the other boy’s hand and taking three hits in quick succession. Isak doesn’t react other than to shoot him an unimpressed look, and he hands off the jay to the random rugby player.

“Shit, that’s strong,” Even breathes heavily, his chest burning. Already his head feels lighter.

“Right? And all it took was Iss fucking a diplomat's son,” Magnus supplies helpfully. Even’s jaw drops.

“We didn’t have sex,” Isak mutters, rolling his eyes. Even takes notice of the fact that he’s blushing.

“Hey, hey,” Even says, holding his hands up in surrender, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Where the fuck were you earlier, anyway?” Isak is scowling now as he peers up at Even.

“Just had something to handle.”

“You knew you weren’t going to be at practice and didn’t bother to tell me? Even though you’ve seen me like three different times in the past 24 hours?” There’s playful hurt evident in Isak’s voice, but Even is starting to wonder just how playful the hurt actually is.

“Sorry, ‘captain’ won’t happen again,” he says sarcastically, being sure to smile so Isak knows he isn’t actually angry.

Isak rewards him with a small smile, and continues looking up at Even through his lashes. If it was true that Isak had fucked some diplomat’s son, he doesn’t blame the guy. He too, would fuck Isak then give him free weed.

The night progresses well from that point on. Even takes enough hits to feel well out of his mind. He’s wondering if Isak would get upset if he randomly touched his hair when his phone vibrates multiple times. It’s a struggle to get it out of his pocket, and when he finally succeeds, he wonders if it was even worth it.

 _Sonja: evenn_  
_Sonja: im so sad right now_

  
He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He’s just starting to respond when another message comes in.

  
_Sonja: facetime?_

 

  
Even puts his phone down and looks around him. They’d ordered takeout a few minutes ago, and everyone is eating, still high out of their minds. He has his legs up on the bed, and Isak is propped carefully against him. Even knows he’s being an asshole, because the least he can do is call his ex-girlfriend for a little bit. The thing is, though, Even isn’t too sure that Sonja has gotten the message that she’s just his ex now.

He sits there for a bit longer, enjoying the sense of togetherness he’s feeling. Long gone is the loneliness he’d been feeling earlier. His phone vibrates again.  
Sonja: I really need someone right now.  
Even goes completely still. Isak turns his head so he can look at him.

“You okay?”

Even nods, “Yeah I just figure it’s time for me to head back,” Isak nods and moves so he’s no longer relying on Even to sit up. Even says his quick goodbyes to everyone, and as soon as he gets into the hallway he calls Sonja.

They talk for a minute until he gets back into his room and she gets a good look at him.

“Holy fuck. Are you high right now?”

She hangs up without giving him the chance to respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm lazy and cannot figure out how to add working links but you should really check my beta's profile out lol :)


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